


The Price of a Collar

by sparkly_butthole



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Remembers, First Time, Howling Commandos - Freeform, I swear it's not that kinky guys, Light Dom/sub, M/M, No mpreg, Omega Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes, also unintentional bloodplay, but not like a lot, collaring, mentions of other Avengers, or at least Clint, really not my thing sorry, referenced character death, unintentional ass to mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-11-28 21:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11426331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkly_butthole/pseuds/sparkly_butthole
Summary: “Buck,” Steve whispers into his neck. “I’m here for you if you need to talk.”And that’s his sweet little Stevie, too. Always knowing when to give Bucky space, always offering himself and expecting nothing in return.“I know, Steve… ugh… I gotta go, I’ll be right back…”He barely makes it to the toilet in time to throw up. Then he looks at himself in the mirror, eyes reflecting a pain no medication could abolish.Bucky Barnes is in love with his best friend, and it means he’s a monster.





	1. November 1941: Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing in the Stucky fandom, and it's my first time writing an ABO fic, so go gentle on me! It's a bit different from the ones you're probably used to seeing. I hope you like it! 
> 
> Please let me know if you would like me to continue the story. Comments and critiques always welcome.

It’s a Tuesday night when the realization hits Bucky like a brick to the face. 

Nothing unusual happens that day, nothing to drag it out of him kicking and screaming in some fantastic manner like one would expect from such an epiphany. It’s just the usual ten hours of work followed by a nice walk home, then snagging his best friend from art class. They recount their day, or discuss the dames, or whatever Steve drew in class… never about the encroaching winter or the fear that they won’t be able to afford to keep the heat on. Or the fear that Steve will finally succumb to one of the many illnesses that plague him year after year.

Tonight, Steve’s hair hangs over his face, long enough that it’ll need a cut soon. Bucky will have to grab the scissors and work through it himself; they can’t afford a barber. Things have been tighter than usual since Steve had that trip to the emergency room a few weeks ago and a portion of their paychecks had to go towards the bill.  

Trying to brush off the melancholy settling in his bones when he thinks of such things, Bucky looks at Steve. The light retreats earlier every night, and the streetlamps are already awake. The glare is harsh in his eyes, but it somehow softens Steve’s features, and somewhere between that and the lock of blonde hair that’s blown into his eyes and his usual vibrant spirit, something stirs inside Bucky. It’s something low in his gut, tingling up his spine. It’s breathtaking. 

_ Steve _ is breathtaking, and he doesn’t know how he never saw it before.

For a moment he thinks he’s gonna pull a Steve Rogers and fall down right there, in the middle of the Brooklyn sidewalk; his lungs just won’t pull enough oxygen and time slows to a crawl.

Steve walks a couple more steps before he realizes Bucky has stopped behind him. 

“Buck? You alright?”

Bucky forces in a deep breath and closes his eyes, holding it. “Yeah, ‘m fine Stevie. Just a little tired, I guess.”

Steve, the little shit, has always been able to read James Buchanan Barnes like a book. He appraises his best friend with a quirked brow, not buying it for a second. 

“What are you hiding, Bucky?”

“Nothin’, I swear.”

“Uh huh. You’re keepin’ somethin’ from me, Buck. I’ll figure it out, you know I will. Might as well fess up.”

Bucky drinks in the sight of his best friend and tries to ignore the longing that urges him to move forward and grab Steve. He wants nothing more in that moment than to kiss him ‘til the sun comes up.

His eyes close again. Now that he recognizes the feeling for what it is, he can’t deny its grip. The grip it has had for a long time. He has to come up with a plan. Steve’s right, he can’t keep this secret for long.

But right now, Bucky’s mind is clouded with the fact that he’s a terrible human being.

It isn’t that he’s an alpha and Steve is a beta, which is not unheard of but highly frowned upon. 

It isn’t that they’re both alphas who couldn’t mate no matter how much they wanted to.

It isn’t even that Steve is an omega, one of those rare males saddled with all the crazy mating hormones that he can do nothing with- other than ride out the pain of an unmated heat or find an alpha kind enough to get him through it. The same-sex aspect of that would be weird enough, even if it is technically legal.

No. It’s that Steve is  _ nothing _ . His body was too sick to give a conclusive answer when they tested him on his 18th birthday. It seems somewhat odd to Bucky that that’s the case, considering Steve is capable of going to classes, taking commissions, walking around, and most importantly, jerking off (and probably fucking)… but nevertheless, the doctors had been unable to classify his status due to his health problems.

Worse, since he’s always been a social outcast, this is just one more way in which Steve Rogers doesn’t fit in with his peers.

And because of this, pining after him is the same as fancying a child. Steve, as an “unclassified,” can’t legally give consent at all.

Bucky shakes himself out of it and catches up with Steve, who is watching him curiously. 

“Seriously, Buck, what’s up with you?”

“I already told ya, Steve. I’m fine. Let’s go home. I still got some of that hot cocoa from ma that we could heat up.” _ Maybe we could snuggle together, too, yeah? _

_ No _ , he thinks to himself.  _ I won’t be able to do that anymore. Not now. _

Steve lets him off the hook, though Bucky suspects that it won’t last given Steve’s incessant need to poke, and they walk in mostly companionable silence the rest of the way, even if Bucky is attempting to rid his mind of anxiety. He’s more comfortable by the time they get back home, but his mood dives down again when Steve grabs him for a hug as soon as the door closes. For one thing, Bucky is supposed to be the one protecting Steve from his demons, not the other way around. 

For another... god, but his inner alpha can smell the smaller man; the pheromones are strongest at the top of his head, which is right in Bucky’s face. It’s not a mating scent at all, no, but the clean, pure smell of his Stevie, something even the sexiest omega around could not rival even smack in the middle of a heat. 

He burns, skin hot with the desire to take Steve into his arms and make love to him, push him against the wall and rut against him, not rough like he would normally, but with passion and real feeling. Nothing at all like he’s done so far in his sexual encounters.

He wants to make love this time. Not fuck.

“Buck,” Steve whispers into his neck. “I’m here for you if you need to talk.” 

And that’s his sweet little Stevie, too. Always knowing when to give Bucky space, always offering himself and expecting nothing in return.

“I know, Steve… ugh… I gotta go, I’ll be right back…” 

He barely makes it to the toilet in time to throw up. Then he looks at himself in the mirror, eyes reflecting a pain no medication could abolish.

Bucky Barnes is in love with his best friend, and it means he’s a monster.

 

Two weeks later, his Stevie- and Bucky can no longer think of him as anything but  _ his _ , much to his dismay- is all fired up. There’s rumors the States will get involved in the war. Steve is, of course, chomping at the bit to enlist, and there is nothing in the world that Bucky won’t do to ensure his precious guy is safe if the worst comes to pass. 

Steve would have none of that, so he wisely keeps his mouth shut and hopes for the best.

It’s become clear to Bucky that Steve knows. How could he not? They’ve been joined at the hip since they were six. 

And it’s not like he’s been particularly subtle about it, either. His mind keeps screaming one thing, but his body and heart just continue to waltz off into the sunset together, refusing to follow orders. 

_ Pull your eyes away, _ he’d tell himself when his friend would strip down to his boxers before climbing into their shared bed.

_ Don’t make a sound, don’t let him know you’re listening, you idiot _ , he’d think whenever Steve touched himself in the small hours of the morning.

_ Stop thinkin’ about him like this _ , he’d whisper to himself at all hours of the day.

He’s a bug under a microscope when it comes to his best friend. So yes, Steve Rogers one hundred percent knows how Bucky feels; it’s there in his eyes when he dares to meet them. Probably even an idiot would figure it out, given his recent behavior.

But his best friend doesn’t address it, and at the end of the day, it changes nothing. Their easy camaraderie is still there. Their gossiping and joking about the beautiful women that fall at Bucky’s feet continue as though he were a normal guy with normal desires. As though he were an alpha in search of a nice female omega to bond for life and to have lots of little babies with. They both know it’s a lie, but they maintain the illusion anyway. 

Until the night that they can’t any longer, at least.

Steve circles the living room, glorious in his passion and desire to fight for his country. Before his revelation two weeks ago, Bucky would have found it amusing, if slightly alarming. Not that there is any way the Army will take him, but still. That wouldn’t have quieted Bucky’s fear before, but now?

This is a whole different ballgame. All he can think is _ keep Steve safe, keep Steve safe _ , a litany rattling about in his head until he’s driven himself silly. Like his inner alpha is dying to come out and play, to protect at all costs this beautiful blonde boy that owns his heart. With his own life, if need be. That possessive, protective _ thing _ that people had always told him would come naturally in a few years’ time is right there at the surface, and it’s all Bucky can do to avoid snarling at the thought of his Stevie suffering.

God, but he’s a right mess.

Steve stops pacing and glances at him. “I know what you’re thinkin’, Buck.”

“Is that right, punk?”

“I’m always right.”

“So tell me what I’m thinkin’ then, since the almighty Steve Rogers is so wise.”

“You’re thinkin’ there’s no way you’re gonna let little Stevie enlist.”

Bucky says nothing. It is, after all, what he is thinking.

Steve glares, another of those faces that Bucky absolutely adores. “You’re not gonna stop me, Buck. Don’t even try.”

He throws his hands up. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

The blonde eyes him suspiciously. “There’s no way I’ll get away with it that easily.”

Bucky sighs. “I’ll tie you down if I have to, Stevie. You’re not gonna end up dead in a ravine somewhere in the German snow. Not on my watch.”

Steve stops his pacing. “I already told you, you can’t stop me. You have to sleep sometime.”

He’s getting a little animated himself, and only Steve Rogers has ever been able to accomplish that. “We’re not even at war, Rogers. We might not ever go to war. It’s Europe’s problem. Nobody’s done nothin’ to us. Why should we go fight and die for them?”

_ Uh-oh, _ that was the wrong thing to say.

“... why should we? I thought you were better than that, Buck.”

The disappointment in Steve’s eyes is too much to bear. Truth is, he _ is _ better than that. If it wasn’t for Steve, he’d happily enlist to fight the minute the US declared war. It’s a noble cause. Not to mention he’s part Jewish, and the rumors of events in Germany are worrying at the very least. 

But he  _ does _ have Steve to protect, and despite the perversity of his feelings, he can’t just walk away and leave him here. He’ll get sick and end up on the street, and Steve won’t survive a single winter homeless. The truth is shit, but it’s truth nonetheless.

No, if Uncle Sam wants him, he’s gonna have to call his draft number. And even then, Bucky’s not sure he’ll be able to leave.

Seeing no more of Bucky’s internal struggle other than that there  _ is _ one, Steve turns and walks towards their bedroom in a huff. 

Something feral snaps in Bucky then. 

He’s on Steve before he can even understand his own actions, turning him around and pushing him against the wall, gentle but firm all at once. He angles his head to kiss the younger man, and surprisingly, Steve offers little resistance after his initial shock. He gives back as much as he gets. The kiss is messy and clumsy, tongues and teeth and saliva and so,  _ so _ perfect.

Unfortunately, Bucky quickly registers what he’s done, and steps back, horrified. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry Stevie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” 

Steve takes a step and tugs him in by his hips, locking them together. “Don’t.” 

And it works. The words tumbling from Bucky’s lips as if of their own accord suddenly stop, like Steve had slammed a cork in his throat.

The young men gawk at each other, faces flushed and eyes dilated. Bucky’s the first to speak, feeling his hot breath reflected off of Steve’s upturned face.

“Stevie, I- we can’t. I’m an alpha. It would be like mating with a child.”

The anger in his best guy’s face is almost enough to knock him into next week.

“What did you call me?” Steve’s voice is low and dangerous.

“It’s not like that, and you know it. I wouldn’t see it that way. But the law would. You’re not registered as anything, which makes it statutory rape, and your body isn’t made to handle a cock this big, anyway, let alone a knot. You’re a fella, for Christ’s sake.”  _ And you’re supposed to submit to me _ , he thinks but doesn’t add.  _ Steve Rogers ain’t never submitted to anyone in his life and he ain’t about to start now. _

“I don’t care. I can handle anything you got, Buck,” Steve whispers. It’s the voice, Bucky knows, that brooks no arguments. Steve’s not gonna listen when he has his mind set on something like this.

And Bucky knows he shouldn’t let it go any further, that he shouldn’t have pushed it this far in the first place, but he doesn’t have much resistance. He never has, not when it comes to this feisty little blonde. 

“Steve…” 

“I want you, Bucky,” Steve rubs against him, arousal clearly outlined and poking into his hip, thin fabric the only thing separating Steve’s aching cock from his own. 

He’s fairly certain he’s gonna give in, God help him, even though it’s probably the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. But he tries one more time, knowing it’s useless. 

Knowing that he  _ wants _ it to be useless.

“Stevie, baby. I don’t want to hurt you. And this  _ will _ hurt you.”  _ And you’re already so fragile _ , he doesn’t add.

“If it’s too much, I’ll tell you, Buck. But I want this. I need this. It’s not fair that I can’t  _ have _ this. I’m not broken!” 

“I know you’re not,” Bucky whispers in a sad voice.

“Then why are you waiting?”

In response, Bucky grabs him under the knees and lifts him, like the most delicate of dames, and carries him into the bedroom.

 

He gently places Steve on the bed, but is practically pulled on top of the smaller man as he’s kissed to within an inch of his life. Steve’s mouth is warm and inviting, and their tongues dance passionately. Bucky doesn’t want it to end, ever, but he can hardly catch his breath and has no idea how Steve is able to kiss like this without having an asthma attack.

As he pulls back, concerned, Steve shoots him a stern glare. Sometimes it isn’t a good thing that they can practically read each other’s minds.

“I swear to God, Buck, if you back out on me now-”

Bucky gathers himself on top of Steve, careful to avoid crushing him, and stares at his beautiful blue eyes fondly. “I could never say no to you, Stevie. Never in my entire life.”

Even though he figures it should be pretty obvious, apparently Steve still feels the need to ask. Bucky’s heart aches when he hears the apprehension in Steve’s voice. Of course, this is a big step, so some trepidation is understandable. Not about how Bucky feels about Steve, though. Never that.

“So… you really want me? You want to do this?”

“I don’t know, pal, what do you think?” He thrusts against Steve, who can’t help but push back. 

“Why did you stay quiet?”

He scoffs and looks at Steve incredulously. “You kiddin’ me, punk? Why didn’t  _ you _ say anything?”

“Gee, I dunno, maybe because it’s illegal and we’d be judged even if it wasn’t. You’re an alpha. You should be mating with omegas. _ Female _ omegas.” His voice is bitter.

“Stevie, babe, I don’t care.” He scoops up the smaller man, close enough to sniff his clean, heady scent. “That’s not it. I thought maybe because you were my best friend, it was wrong to feel this way, especially considering… you know. But I wouldn’t care what anyone thought no matter what your orientation.” He sighs and leans down to kiss Steve with a tenderness Steve would’ve never guessed Bucky had in him. “It’s illegal, baby,” he whispers. “I could get in big trouble.”  _ Not to mention you’d die without me if I went to jail _ . “And I don’t want to hurt you,” he emphasizes again. 

“Why don’t you trust me to make that call for myself, Bucky?”

“What do you think I’m doin’ right now? I’m not runnin’ away, am I?”

Steve reaches out and wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck, pulling him down for another bruising kiss. When Bucky pulls back, he decides he has to put his foot down, set some ground rules.

“We’re taking it slow, Stevie. I trust you to tell me if it’s too much, but I’m not jumpin’ straight into fucking you.”

Steve squeaks in protest, but Bucky speaks over him. 

“No. There’s gonna be rules here. Omega or no, I’m an alpha and you’ll do as I say. I’m here to make you feel good, baby, don’t doubt that. I gotta be careful with you- don’t interrupt me, Steven- if we’re gonna fuck, and that’s gonna take time, okay? I can’t take care of you the way you need it otherwise. Is that understood?”

To his surprise and delight, Steve nods demurely and looks down, blush spreading across his cheeks.  _ This _ can’t possibly be the same Steve Rogers he knows and loves, can it? The instant Bucky makes it clear who’s in charge, his whole demeanor changes in a manner so un-Steve-like it’s eerie. It ignites the fire in Bucky’s belly. He fervently wishes he didn’t have to lay down the law like this. To be able to let go and fuck Steve’s brains out…  _ fuck _ , that would be heaven.

‘Cuz make no mistake, fucking Steve into the bed sounds like a fantastic idea right about now- the  _ best _ of the best ideas this time.

_ Funny how this whole thing went from worst to best, ain’t it? _

“Buck…” Steve whispers. 

“I know. Kiss me again, Steve.” 

Bucky keeps his word. After twenty minutes of kisses ranging from sweet and slow to bruising passion, Steve is practically begging him. Not just with his clever mouth, either; his whole body cries out for Bucky, back arching and hips thrusting up against the other man. 

Bucky grabs his hips and holds him down with a snarl. “Did I say you could do that, Steve?”

The blonde swallows nervously. “No…” 

“There’s a rule you’re going to have to learn to follow now. When I ask you a question, you answer it with a  _ no, sir, _ or a  _ yes, sir _ . Understood?”

“Yes… yes, sir.” A visible shiver goes through Steve as he says it, and his skin burns with embarrassment.

“That’s good then, you’re so good for me. Did you know that, baby?” Bucky runs his fingers through Steve’s hair. 

“Buck…” 

Bucky stares at Steve’s flushed face. He can’t keep Steve waiting much longer, despite how badly he wants to take him to the edge again and again and hear him beg like a good little omega. 

But Steve is  _ not _ an omega, and he has to remind himself of that sternly. 

Steve pants as Bucky removes his clothes in the most teasing way he knows how, pulling the t-shirt off of Steve’s torso with a gentle touch and sucking slow bruises down the skinny body now presented to him. Every time he pulls one of Steve’s nipples into his mouth, it’s like a firework has gone off in the blonde’s body, and Bucky’s body responds in kind. 

This isn’t about him, though; he wasn’t lying when he said he wants to make Steve feel good. With the normal alpha’s protective instinct comes an overwhelming need to take care of his lover, omega or no. 

He painstakingly makes his way down to the corduroy trousers to tease Steve, who is by now moaning rather loudly. He crawls up to silence the blond by biting his neck, completely on instinct. After a moment, he sits up in shock. 

That’s how an alpha bonds his omega. If he went deep enough, Steve would retain the mark and officially belong to Bucky. Or rather, he would if he were an omega; he’s unsure of what happens to an unclassified. And he can’t do that to Steve, can’t risk it becoming a permanent mark. At that point, his scent would repulse any other alphas nearby. People would know they’d mated, which would present the very problem they’re trying to avoid.

But the action has the intended effect. Steve goes quiet and whimpers at the feel of Bucky’s teeth in him. 

The whimper drags a moan out of Bucky and he growls as he pulls off Steve’s pants, no longer wanting to wait, needing to taste the young man currently writhing underneath him. When he licks the head of Steve’s cock, he nearly comes undone from the response alone.  

It’s different than it is with a dame but no less arousing. Steve’s scent is strong here, almost as compelling as at the top of his head, a bit muskier and thicker but still all Steve Rogers. The taste of him is just as good, sweet and bitter and absolute heaven on his tongue. He moans into it as he works on swallowing Steve down.

Male genitalia comes in all shapes and sizes, of course, but as an alpha, Bucky is rather well-endowed in that department. Steve is too, much to his surprise. It’s absolutely beautiful but it also worries him. What if Steve comes into his own one day and turns out to be an alpha?

That doesn’t seem likely, though. If Steve has an alpha hidden in him somewhere, he’d be putting off pheromones to disgust Bucky. He’s at least a beta- most of the population is anyway- and quite possibly there’s an omega in there dying to come out.

It doesn’t matter at this point, Bucky thinks, because he’s with Steve anyway. No going back now, and he wouldn’t even if he could.

He can’t discover the extent of his mouth’s skills yet, because Steve comes with a shout not two minutes after Bucky first touched him. He swallows it all down, every thick, hot drop of it, cleaning Steve with his mouth until he’s writhing with the overstimulation. 

Steve’s on cloud nine, eyes dazed and breath coming fast. For a moment Bucky worries about a possible asthma attack, but there are no telltale wheezes in that breath. It’s just part of the afterglow. 

In fact, if he didn’t know any better, Bucky would think Steve had gone into subspace. 

Steve is bundled up against his chest, the same way they sleep during the winter but with a much different implication tonight. He threads an arm under Steve’s neck and places his hand against his heart, reveling in the quick, fluttery beat of it. He holds Steve as he falls back to earth, as it were.

“You with me, baby?” he asks when he thinks Steve’s all there again.

“Bucky… oh god, Buck.” A sigh escapes the other man and Bucky can’t help but smile against one bony shoulder. He kisses it and snuggles in close.

“You should… I should help you…”

“No, Stevie. I told you we’re taking it slow, and you’re a mess right now.” Not that he’s not ten kinds of hot and bothered, but Steve’s comfort is most important to him at the moment. There’ll be time for the rest later.

“Yeah well, whose fault is that?”

“Yours, punk. You’re the one who begged me.”

Steve half-heartedly reaches back to hit him, but when he next speaks, his voice is small and bashful.

“I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you too, Stevie.” God, but he does, more than anything. Steve is his sun and moon and everything in between.

Yeah, definitely no regrets.


	2. April 1942: Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets drafted. Steve needs to let off some steam.

Their relationship works splendidly; it's clear they should’ve been together all along. Bucky goes to the factory, leaving Steve to take care of their home, the small, one-bedroom apartment that costs more than Bucky earns. Steve counts himself blessed that he has his artwork to fall back on; if not for that, they wouldn’t be able to afford this place, or any other place for that matter. Bucky’s family would take him back before he starved, of course, but even that would be like pulling teeth. No way in hell they’d let Buck’s “little runt” friend come with.

And his guy would never go for that, and wouldn’t have even before… all this. Before they found what they needed in each other. 

No. If Bucky had wanted to live an easy life with his family, he never would have taken up the lease Sarah Rogers left behind when she died. He never would have moved in with Steve, quit art class, and started working at the factory so they could pay rent. 

In other words, Bucky saved his life. So selling his drawings is the least Steve can do to make sure they have food, clothes, heat… and, of course, money to spend on occasion. That’s his job, and he does it proudly. 

Steve’s bouts of illness are unfortunate for them. A few winters ago, Steve knows, Bucky went without food for several days because they hadn’t had enough to feed the both of them, though Buck would never admit that. When he’d gotten enough strength back to draw, he furiously dove into his work to make up the money they’d lost. So much so, in fact, that his best friend had yelled at him nine ways to Sunday to slow down before he got himself sick again.

Steve smiles at the memory of that fight as he finishes his latest sketch of Bucky. It’s a close up of his face, wearing the soft look he saves only for Steve, and only on rare occasions. It’s Steve’s favorite, and he’s finally managed to get it right. The shadows are  _ slow _ , almost, like sunlight is starting to stream through the window behind the couch where Bucky sits, head resting on his arms. The light mellows the usually sharp, wicked lines of his face and the grey of his eyes, staring so soulfully through the paper that it gives Steve a shiver. 

It’s perfect, the best piece of artwork Steve has ever made. 

Though he has to be fair. He’d had no hand in the making of Bucky’s beauty. It’s one of the things he thanks God for every single day.

The door opens and Steve guiltily closes the sketchbook. It’s not like Buck doesn’t know that Steve draws him, but he probably doesn’t realize just how much, and Steve wants to keep it that way. Might seem a little creepy stalker-ish otherwise, even though they are fucking constantly these days.

Steve takes two steps toward his guy, ready to tackle him and ride his back straight into the bedroom, when he catches a glimpse at Bucky’s face. Something’s wrong; gone is the carefree James Barnes he’s used to seeing every day. The man in front of him is drawn and haggard. Dread seeps into his bones at the sight.

Bucky meets his eyes and silently shoves the paper towards Steve. 

It’s his draft number. Bucky’s been drafted into the Army.

Emotions flash through Steve’s body. Fear, both for Bucky’s and his own safety; envy, because in his heart Steve knows the Army’ll never accept him, though he’ll never stop trying, either; and anger at god for that last one, too. It’s not fair. He should be able to go with his best friend and fight.

“I went down to the office,” Bucky says with a resigned sigh. “I ship out to Wisconsin next Friday.”

“So soon?”

Bucky glances at him, really takes him all in. Steve flushes at the intense quality of the gaze. “Yeah, doll. We knew it was gonna happen, right? After Pearl Harbor there was no way I was gettin’ outta this without havin’ to fight. But at least it’s spring now.” 

Steve’s confused what that has to do with anything. “What does the time of year matter?”

“It matters because you’ll probably be safe while I’m at boot camp. They’re sendin’ me to Fort Hamilton. I’ll be back in Brooklyn by August. Back home to keep an eye on you.”

That’s the wrong thing to say, and he can see in Bucky’s eyes that he knows it. Steve rolls his eyes as Bucky tries to backtrack.

“I know you don’t need me keepin’ an eye, you’re a grown man-”

“Don’t.”

As ever, Bucky Barnes can’t defy that command. He’s never been able to. It’s too late, though. The damage has been done.

Truth is, the tears want to flow. They’re practically begging him, burning his eyes, but he holds them back. Bucky can’t be undrafted, that’s not how this works. The two of them have no control over their own future now. He can’t cry about the things that are out of his control- he  _ can’t _ , but this rage has to go somewhere. He’s Steve Rogers, and he is _ made _ of rage. Pacing the kitchen sure as hell ain’t enough.

His best friend can read him like a book. “Need me to be a punching bag, Stevie?”

Now there’s a strange idea. Steve stops dead still. They’ve never done anything like that before. They haven’t hit each other at all since they were young, and even then it was roughhousing or, on occasion, a real fight. A kid fight.

“Why would I do that?”

“Better that than you leavin’ ‘n gettin’ yourself into trouble again. Y’know, one day you’re gonna find an alpha mid-rut and he’s gonna kill you.”

Well now, if that don’t ramp up his rage, nothin’ will. 

“Fuck you,” he spits out. 

“I ain’t apologizin’ for the truth, Steve. I’m too scared for you to do that.”

“Ain’t we been through this already? I can handle myself.”

Bucky sighs. “Just punch me already. I know you want to. Just do it. Get it out. Maybe it’ll help.”

This is a bad idea, and he knows it. He can’t actually punch his best friend. That’s ridiculous. But he also can’t deny that there’s a part of him that wants to do it, too. All this rage and nowhere to go, and Bucky’s offering. And he’s mad at Bucky. He feels like a bull trapped in a ring, and Buck is a clown with a barrel. None of this is his fault, but he sure ain’t makin’ it better.

“You sure about this?”

“One hundred percent.” Bucky moves closer and looms over Steve. “Need me to get you more riled up, babydoll?”

Oh, right. Bucky thinks he can’t take care of himself. Yeah, he can handle this. He takes a deep breath, and punches Bucky right in the nose.

Despite this entire conversation, Bucky is caught off guard, and the punch actually manages to knock him back into the wall. Steve’s eyes widen and he takes a step forward to help, but immediately backs up again. The ire in Bucky’s eyes is nothing he’s ever seen before. It’s not the first time he’s hit Buck, but it’s the first time he’s gotten this reaction, and he wracks his brain in an attempt to figure out the cause. Bucky did ask for this, after all.

He’d better figure it out quick, too, because suddenly Bucky is stalking towards him, pressing him into the opposite wall. A drop of blood at the corner of his alpha’s nose has started to crust over. The dark color contrasts so beautifully with Bucky’s green-grey eyes that Steve can’t stop staring. He can’t even imagine what that drop looks like in full color. It’s strange that his partial color-blindness wasn’t a huge deal until this moment, until he suddenly felt like he was in some alleyway, cornered by a bully and about to get socked in the face. Again. 

Suddenly, he realizes he’s about to get  _ socked in the fucking face _ .  _ Again. _ Should’ve realized Bucky would want to fight back. _He_ certainly would have.

_ Shit shit shit _ , what’d he do different this time? What is it about a situation where there is consensual violence that’s so different? It’s Bucky, for Christ’s sake. His lover, his… boyfriend? His alpha, whose eyes are made of fire and rage. Maybe this is what his face looks like all the time. If so, he doesn’t envy Bucky’s task of cleaning up after him.

He gasps and closes his eyes, trying to breathe deeply as he watches Bucky’s fingers flex from the corner of his eye as he's closed in by Bucky's arms. Unbelievably, he’s half-hard in his pants. What the fuck is that about?

“You gonna throw a fit there, Steven?” Bucky practically growls his name against his cheek, and Steve goes stock-still again. “Gonna punch me again, hmm?”

“B… Bucky? I didn’t mean-”

“Yeah, you fucking did mean it, Steve. Do you really think I’m gonna take that from my omega?”

“But I’m not- we’re not- and you just-!”

“Don’t talk back to me, Steve.” 

He decides, wisely, not to talk back. 

Maybe Steve should let go. His surprise seems a little silly at this point, considering he just punched an alpha in the face in the midst of an emotional moment. It’s probably just instinct on Bucky’s part… and it’s fuckin’ hot, too. He might as well take the consequences- Bucky's gonna take care of him, he always does- and let the punch do what it was meant to do.

So he lets go.

Bucky runs his fingers through Steve’s golden strands. Despite himself, Steve nearly falls forward into Bucky’s arms as tingles spread throughout his body and down his spine. 

Nah, fuck it, he’s gonna let himself fall forward. This feels too fucking good. He starts to slip into that far-off place Bucky takes him to sometimes, during the best sessions they have together. Those are the nights he can take the knot.

He feels Bucky’s body accept his paltry weight, feels his alpha gently pull his head back by the hair so he’s face up.

“Look at me, Steven,” Bucky breathes.

He forces his eyes open, even though he doesn’t want to, and groans, long and low. He doesn’t even attempt speech; it’d just be gibberish.

Steve is  _ gone. _

Bucky inches toward his face. His breath smells sweet and sharp, like everything else made of  _ Bucky _ .  _ Fuck _ , there’s no part of the man that Steve doesn’t want to eat like the best meal he’d ever have. In a way, it would be.

A giggle escapes him. Bucky sighs and shakes his head. 

“You are absolutely shameless, aren’t you, Steven.” It’s not a question. 

“Mmm.” 

He can tell Bucky wants to be mad right now, but his magic is something he wields without even meaning to or understanding how he does. Bucky’s helpless to it.

“God-fucking-dammit, Steve. You wanna go attacking your alpha like that again, maybe warn him ahead of time. I know I asked for it, but not out of the blue, for fuck’s sake. I wanted to level you just then.”

“But it looks like you gotta get your anger out too, huh?”

“You’re damn straight I do.”

Steve notices with interest that his cock is now fully hard. 

And he sees that Bucky can feel it, too. The alpha’s eyes widen just that little bit, and he huffs a mean-sounding laugh. It doesn’t sound like his best friend at all, but that only makes him harder.

“Alright, you wanna play it that way? We’ll play it that way. Get on the floor. Like that, yes. Now crawl over to the chair. That’s it, that’s a good boy.” Steve hates it when Bucky calls him ‘boy,’ but he can’t bring himself to care right now. 

Steve can practically hear Bucky pondering his next move. Will he strip him down? Tie him up and leave him there, hard and begging? Tease him relentlessly and then fuck him into the bed? The possibilities are endless. Seems like punching his alpha turned out quite well,  _ thank-you-very-much. _

“You wanna play dirty like that, you’re gonna pay the price, Steve. Take off your clothes.” 

There’s nothing Steve can do but obey. Thin frame on display and shivering even in the warm spring air, feeling the humiliation rush through him at the thought of being punished- Steve has never been happier. 

“Are you going to fuck me after?” he asks Bucky, breathless.

“Should I, do you think? Should I reward that kind of behavior? Bad enough I have to pull you out of shit like that on the regular. Jesus, Steve, can’t even play by the rules when you’re _allowed_ to punch somebody! I just don’t know what to do with you. It’s a wonder some other alpha hasn’t already killed your punk ass.”

A part of Steve wants very much to argue the point, but warm air contrasting with cool flesh is of far more importance now. He’ll argue the point later.

But hitting Bucky? Yeah, he shouldn’t have done it like that.

Bucky sits in the chair, seeming even larger and more intimidating now that Steve’s kneeling on the floor, and pats his knee. Shocked, Steve climbs into his lap, bending himself over so that his tiny, pale ass is on display. Is he really going to-

_ Smack! _

Yes, apparently he is really going to.

A half-sob, half-moan escapes him in a quick rush of air. Bucky didn’t pull any punches on that one, but his cock is so hard it hurts. Even his balls are tight and aching. Clearly, Steve has some kinks of which he was previously unaware. That is perfectly fine by him.

He wiggles his ass, signaling that he is ready for more. Bucky growls at him, maybe wanting to make Steve really feel remorse with his pleasure, but this is not the way to pursue it. Nevertheless, his alpha continues spanking him with his open palm. The same palm that runs lovingly through Steve’s hair at night. The same palm that wraps around his chest and spreads out over his heart and keeps him warm and safe. 

That palm can work wonders in so many ways.

Before he realizes it, he’s unashamedly humping Bucky’s thigh. His ass has to be fifty shades of red by now, but that doesn’t matter because he’s on another planet and oh,  _ fuck _ , will Bucky hurry up and take care of him?

As if on cue, the alpha grabs Steve and practically twirls him so that he’s in a straddling position, then carries him into the bedroom like he weighs less than a sack of potatoes.

It’s so fucking sexy that Steve’s not sure he could stand up even if someone paid him to.

Bucky doesn’t go easy on him. In fact, he’s rougher than he’s ever been with Steve, and that is also one hundred percent fine; Bucky has a tendency to forget that just because Steve’s small, that doesn’t mean he’s fragile. Steve comes so hard he blacks out, and wakes up to Bucky’s knot stretching his entrance open in a most delicious manner. 

Limbs entangled and lungs empty, it takes awhile before they can even speak. When they do, they have the same conversation Steve predicted in his head, nearly word for word.

“Why, Steve?”

“Because." He knows he sounds petulant. "I was mad.”

“Oh, gee, I couldn’t have figured that out myself. Fuck, you need to be more careful. What are you gonna do when I ain’t here to watch over you?”

“Find a recruiting center that’ll take me.”

“Stevie, baby, no. You can’t.”

“Yes, I can.” Steve sticks his chin out, defiant.

“Don’t blame me when they give you that 4F again, champ. They’re not gonna accept you. But you can still make a difference back home, you know that.”

“Bucky, men are  _ dying _ -”

“Yeah, yeah, they are. We’ve had this argument, haven’t we?”

“Then you know I’m not changing my mind about this. I’ll go to every recruitment booth in the nation before I give up.”

Bucky sighs. “Of course I know. You’re such a contrary little punk, you know that?”

Steve finds himself wanting to cry again. “Asshole,” he mumbles back, unable to come up with something more clever.

Bucky pulls him close, knowing, as always, what his guy needs. Steve can’t hold back anymore and just lets it out, cries for so long that Buck’s shirt gets wet. He’s surprisingly stoic about the whole deal but Steve knows how much it’s killing him inside, knows that he’s holding out on letting the tears go himself just so he can be strong for Steve. 

And Steve hates that his body and his mind are so weak that he needs to be coddled like this- he’s almost 22 for goodness’ sake- but he can’t seem to stop the tears from flowing. 

Bucky’s really going, and it’s just a matter of time before he’s shipped off to Europe or the Pacific to fight in World War II. This is all real.

But he’s determined. Bucky’s not leaving him behind, and that’s all there is to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments, critiques, and kudos give me life. 
> 
> Huge thanks to Arke once more for straightening my shit out.


	3. January, 1943: Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets yet another set of papers, and Steve is, as usual, angry.

The day Bucky gets his second set of papers, five months after returning home from boot camp, Steve gets into another fight. His passion to help those in need runs through his veins and there’s nowhere to store it, but strangely, his mind goes blank when he learns Buck is catching a boat to Europe tomorrow. To war, to save so many others in need, too many for Steve to even dream of saving. Bucky’s not really himself, either, chipper but not in his usual manner. 

Steve can practically taste the fear in the air between them.

Of course, tonight of all nights, Bucky decides they need a double date. Can’t he see Steve’s world is ending tomorrow? Why would he want to spend it with a couple of dames who won’t even look at him twice? For shits ‘n giggles? To keep up appearances?

What the hell does that matter now?

They nevertheless manage to catch a few moments to themselves before Bucky has to get back to base for lights out. And now Steve is, of course, on a rampage.

"Another 4F! Why don't they believe I can fight, Bucky? I deserve to be there with you." He can't seem to help himself, but it drives him nuts that he sounds so much like a child. It reminds him of the time he and Bucky got into their biggest fight. Fifth grade Steve was an extra-special version of his current self, even more rage bottled up in an even more miniscule package. He'd nearly gotten into a knock-down, drag-out fight with Bucky that time. Then when he'd apologized profusely later on for being an asshole, Buck had just laughed.

'Cuz Buck can be an asshole, too.

But right now, Bucky's sitting directly in the starlight and looks like an angel had sculpted him. The dimple in his chin looks so pretty that Steve wants to taste it; the tobacco hair that contrasts with his perfect eyes, those orbs that suck him in so deeply he feels he's drowning every time he looks into them. God, he's gonna miss him so much. And Bucky might die.

Bucky might _ die. _

He takes all his rage out on an empty can, which goes flying through the alley behind Stark Expo like a bat out of hell. Much like his own sanity tonight. Whatever he does, he mustn't let Bucky see how heartbroken he is. It's Bucky whose life is on the line now, and they need to be strong for each other.

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky sighs next to him, and oh, but he sounds so damn tired. 

“Thanks,” he replies sarcastically.

“No, really. I’d give anything to not have to go.”

Steve feels the inner rage begin to surface, but Bucky cuts that off at the source.

“I’ll go and fight for my country and for my people, too, because it’s the right thing to do, Stevie. Don’t go thinkin’ you haven’t corrupted me with your constant need to save everybody. I wouldn’t be half the man I am today if it weren’t for you. You’re a horrible influence.” Steve can’t help but smile a little at that. “It’s not that. It’s you. Leavin’ you behind is the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do, babydoll.”

Steve hangs his head and blushes, feeling the hot blood rush through his body. His beautiful alpha has always been able to fluster him without even trying. Now he’s cursing himself inwardly for not speaking up about his feelings earlier. He reckons Bucky’s doing the same thing. 

“Thanks, Buck, really. But I can take care of myself.”

“Never said you couldn’t, you little shit. But I am who I am, just like you are. I was born to protect you. It’s like it’s in my bones.” It’s just the way they are: Steve, brave and a little crazy; Bucky, protective of his younger, smaller best friend, the man he sees as his omega even if that technically isn’t the case. And a man does whatever it takes to protect his omega.

Steve knows by now that he is one; it’s there somewhere inside of him, dying to be set free, and on some level, Bucky must know it, too. In a different world, where Steve’s body wasn’t always on the verge of betraying him, they would be together the way they should.

But that world isn’t this one, is it. 

That doesn’t change the fact that there’s an unbreakable bond between them. So it’s not like he doesn’t get it. He’d feel the same if the roles were reversed.

“I’m more worried about you than you should be about me, y’know.”

Bucky chuckles next to him and Steve sends him a half-hearted glare. 

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true. At least I put you down as my next of kin. You’ll get my paycheck while I’m away. It’s enough you don’t need to work anymore. But you’re gonna, I know you.”

“I’m interviewin’ for the assembly line job next week. I forgot to tell you.”

“Oh yeah? That’s great, Stevie!” Bucky is genuinely happy for him, but he also can’t hide the worry in his eyes. Can Steve handle the job? 

Yeah. Steve sure as hell can.

As though they’d had an entire conversation with their eyes, Bucky starts laughing, a loud, booming thing that warms Steve right to the core. “You never stop, do you. Little Stevie Rogers, fightin’ ‘til the day he dies.”

“I’m not a ‘little’ anything.”

“Oh, I know that better’n anyone, babe.” Bucky wiggles his eyebrows.

“You’re killin’ me over here.”

“‘s what I’m here for, y’know?”

“You do realize I’m going back to the recruiter again in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, with another set of fake papers? Of course you are, Steve. I wouldn’t expect anything less of your dumb ass.” Bucky grabs his neck and pulls him close, taking the sting out of his words. Then his voice goes quiet, pained. “None of this is fair, is it? Go or stay… we should get to do it together. That’s all I want outta life, to live or die by your side. And you’d be the best goddamn soldier the world’s ever seen, you’re so damn brave.” 

Steve feels the tears start. There’s not much time left. 

“Will you kiss me?” he asks Bucky, his small, scared voice muffled by his lips against Bucky’s uniform, one that doesn’t even smell like him because it’s clean. Like anyone’s gonna care what soldiers smell like when bullets go flying.

“It’ll be the last kiss we have in a long time probably, so yeah, I’m gonna kiss the daylights out of you.”

Bucky grips Steve’s hair hard, pulling his head back to meet the eyes of the younger man leaning against him, mouth hanging open obscenely, thick lips pliant and ready for the onslaught of all that is Bucky Barnes. 

His lover delivers on that kiss, soft lips and tongue assaulting him slowly but inexorably, building towards a peak they’ll never reach; it’s too late to find a place for deeper privacy, and in this moment, Steve hates the Army, hates the war, hates his life. 

It’s like it’s the last damn kiss they’ll ever share, and his blood lights up in flames. It very well might be, but Steve isn’t about to go acknowledging a thought like that.

When they pull back, they’re both out of breath, hot in the unseasonably warm air of Flushing Meadows in January, though they’d be hot even if it were below zero. Bucky, with twice the lung capacity of Steve, is still out of breath when he speaks.

“You’ll be here in the mornin’, right babydoll? Even if I can’t kiss you goodbye.” 

“Dumb question.”

“Smartass.”

“Uh-huh.”

A moment of silence passes before Steve speaks again.

“Don’t go winnin’ the war without me.”

“Don’t go doin’ anything stupid while I’m gone,” Bucky quips back.

“How can I? You’re takin’ all the stupid with you.”

Bucky slaps him on the back and stands up. “That’s the spirit.”

 

The mood soon turns somber, however. The shadows of the alley feel oppressive now, as they sit in the dark for their last moments together, Bucky smoking a cigarette, careful to make sure the wind blows the smoke away from Steve. They’re both aware of how unlikely it is that both of them will survive this war, Steve because of his illnesses and Bucky because of… things that don’t bear thinking about. 

As it turns out, the oppressive feeling isn’t just because of the weight of the moment. Both of them are on alert, despite Steve’s less than stellar hearing, as four young men make themselves known with a clatter through either sheer stupidity or clumsiness. 

Or at least Steve hopes. It’ll be even worse if it’s intentional.

“Well, well. What have we here? Some illicit shit goin’ down, looks like.”

“‘Ey, might as well have fun with ‘em before we turn ‘em in to the cops, right Clark?”

Steve recognizes two of them as fellas he’s already fought before. One of them, the one named Clark, is an alpha- he’s surprised to discover that his nose is able to pick out the scent quite clearly. A little bit of focus tells him that one other is an alpha, the big one he’s never seen before with the bent nose. That guy makes him want to piss his pants. The other two are betas and seem far less interesting in general. The real threats are the alphas.

For his part, Bucky takes a step in front of Steve, and Steve’s not even sure if that’s to protect him from them or to protect him from himself. Either way, he ain’t goin’ down without a fight. 

Bucky, though, damn. He’s more fierce than a tiger in this moment. Steve scoots closer and elbows him. Together, maybe they can take ‘em. 

It’s their only shot. He’s aware that Bucky doesn’t want him involved, but four on one makes for impossible odds. Two might be able to do it.

“Okay, Steve,” his alpha whispers. “On three. One.” 

The shadowy figures start to form a semicircle around them as the boys are backed against the wall. Bucky flicks his cigarette to the ground casually and stomps on the butt, looking the young men in the eyes as he does so. It’s intimidating enough that one of the betas takes a step back. Steve’s never loved Bucky as much as he does right now.

“Two.”

The remaining three inch closer; the stars bring Bent Nose’s face into sharp relief. It’s even uglier up close like this. Bucky’s aiming for the man next to him, the less confident beta, but he’s absolutely not letting that guy close to Steve. It rankles, but Stevie has his own two bullies to worry about, including Clark. He thinks, amused, that this might actually be fun. Bucky would probably fight for the chance to beat him up himself if he knew Steve was thinking that.

“Three,” and for a moment, the world stands still. Bucky’s eyes shine in the moonlight as he winks at his omega and Steve can’t help but think  _ this sucks, why does this have to happen to us, why can’t the world just leave us alone? _ Not just the bullies or the cops, but the war, too. It’s a selfish thought, and he dislikes himself a little more for it. It’s how he feels, though, and there’s no helping that.

Then time returns to normal and Steve’s fighting for his right to live his own life. He hopes he’s not fighting for his life, too, though those may very well be the same thing. He puts up his fists and swings wildly, but he’s certainly experienced enough with back alley fights that those wild fists hit paydirt at least twice before he’s down to the concrete. 

The alpha, Clark, pulls a foot back to kick him in the stomach, and Steve has to think quickly to ensure that doesn’t happen, because it’d be absolutely disastrous. Instead of cringing at the oncoming blow, he reaches out and grabs the guy’s foot and  _ yanks _ , toppling him onto his ass. Sometimes, that lack of survival instinct Bucky complains about can be an advantage. 

He knows he has to act fast; Bucky’s engaged with Bent Nose, and the fight looks to be a dandy. He’s on his own for now, so he climbs on top of Clark before the larger man can get up and then pounds into his face. It’s the most brutal he’s ever been, but it might be his survival on the line this time. Miraculously, the guy pushes Steve off and actually breaks off to run out of the alleyway, taking his buddy with him. They clearly got more than they’d bargained for. Steve knows neither of them will cause any more trouble. He’s fought enough bullies to know.

Now it’s down to Bent Nose, who has enough of his wits left to scoff at his buddy’s retreat. The other beta is unable to jump into the fight between Bent Nose and Bucky, and he scans the alley nervously as the other two young men beat feet. Then, he slowly backs away from the fight and takes off, keeping to the shadows, probably figuring he’ll piss off Bent Nose if he’s caught running.

This is working out better than he could’ve hoped.

Steve creeps up behind Bent Nose as he swings for Bucky, a big lumbering thing that’s slow but not slow enough as his fist connects with the side of Buck’s head. It’s a glancing blow, but Bucky staggers back with the weight of it. He’s held his own so far but this guy is the real muscle of the group, as well as the meanest, so it’s up to Steve now. 

Thankfully, the asshole isn’t paying any mind to Steve, even though Steve’s not sure what reason the giant could’ve come up with for his friends’ hasty retreat. Probably doesn’t believe Steve’s remotely a threat; Bucky is clearly the one he has to worry about.

Steve, behind Bent Nose now, grabs his hips as he lunges for Bucky, going for the killing blow, as it were. It’s now or never, and Steve’s not sure how he can swing this fight in their favor. He decides to do something he’s never done before: he bends over a little and bites the guy’s hip.  _ Hard. _

“What the FUCK?” 

It’s mostly a cry of surprise rather than pain, but Bent Nose whirls around looking for the source, and it’s a perfect opportunity for Bucky to step forward and finish the job. He lands a jab to the side of Bent Nose’s face, and follows through with a hook to the jaw that knocks him down all the way. 

Just like that, the fight is over. 

Bucky bends down over the only asshole left in the alley and spits. He crouches over him threateningly and meets his eyes. Bent Nose, knowing he’s defeated, scowls, but shows his cowardice clear as day by not meeting Bucky’s eyes. It disgusts Steve that this bully could act all proud and violent when he had the advantage but couldn’t show some respect to the men who brought him justice.

“Look at me, you prick,” Bucky starts. Steve glances at him adoringly. There’s blood leaking slowly from a cut at his temple where the last punch landed, but otherwise, Bucky looks swell. “You’re gonna get outta here, and you ain’t tellin’ nobody about tonight. If you do, I’ll make sure you regret it, you got that? I’m not just some poor kid from Brooklyn; I have connections, you fuckin’ moron.” 

Steve’s not sure how much of that is posturing and how much of it is true, but he doesn’t care. The guy gets up and Bucky, grudgingly, allows it. Bent Nose walks away, but the tension in his back is obvious as he turns away. Hopefully, that’s all they’ll hear of this.

Steve grins and Bucky returns it. Shit yeah, they make an amazing team.

 

Neither of them notices the man with glasses and sad eyes slinking away in the darkness behind them.

 

“You’ve got your asthma meds.”

“Yes, mom.”

“And your pain pills.”

Steve glares, but Bucky isn’t letting up.

“And the phone’s by your bed, and Mrs. Gillette’s number’s still close by in case you need her.”

“Goddammit Buck, I’ll be fine.”

Bucky drops his head. “I sure as hell hope so, Stevie. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. I may not have faith in God, but I’ve got faith in you. So you better be here when I get back.”

Steve swallows. “I’ll see you in Europe.”

Bucky’s smile is sad. “Yeah.”

It’s not fair that he doesn’t get to hug Bucky and say goodbye, the way the rest of the couples at the docks do. Instead, they stare solemnly at each other, as men. As brothers, even though they’re so much more than that. Even though it’s killing them both inside.

Finally, Bucky can’t stay any longer. “Be safe, Steve.” He looks every bit a handsome soldier, and  _ oh _ , it makes Steve ache inside.

“You too, Buck.”

_ I love you, _ their eyes say.

When Bucky walks to the dock, his head is high. Steve watches him go with a heavy heart.

They need more goddamn _ time. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support! I hope you continue to enjoy.


	4. June 1943: Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets the serum.

Everything’s happening so fast.  Bucky’s been in Europe fighting for his life for months. Of course, Steve spends every spare moment thinking about it, but there are far fewer of those than he had expected. 

First there was his acceptance into the military. 

Then Erskine’s offer.

Now… now, this strange courtship with Peggy Carter.

Something deep inside him struggles with all of it, but he has to be honest with himself at some point, and it’s easier to do that with Buck on the other side of the ocean instead of right in front of him. Bucky’s an alpha, and he has a duty to humanity to be a father. And that’s if he makes it through this war. Whatever the two of them had could never have endured, and they both knew it. 

And Peggy Carter is a beautiful dame, of that there’s no doubt. Those plump, red lips and curly hair, her soft smile, the smooth alabaster of her skin. He’d never in a million years think of Bucky’s absence as positive, but maybe something good can come from it. Maybe he can finally move on from the dream that’s kept his head in the sand for all these years.

Still… he dreams of Bucky every night. It’s killing him inside that he doesn’t know whether his best friend is alive or not. Would he ever be able to feel this deeply for Peggy? Or anyone else, for that matter?

It’s time to get into this terrifying machine now and, despite the doubts running through his head, he’s suddenly very glad that Peggy is here with him. She’s a good woman, strong and brave and an important ally on top of that. He shudders and shivers in fear, but when she meets his eyes it gives him the strength he needs to climb into the machine.

He takes a deep breath and holds it as they begin the process. Within seconds, the pain overtakes him and he remembers no more.

 

When Steve awakens, a lot of things register at once. A sense of wonder at being able to hear and see in color, relief that he survived, exhaustion, aches and pains from head to toe but the old familiar weakness gone… it’s a strange mix, and suddenly he needs to lie down. The scientists are dying to talk to him, examine him, poke and prod him, but he just wants to rest more than anything. Carter, bless the woman, strides right through the men crowded around him and hauls him by the bicep- Jesus this thing is  _ huge _ \- out of the room, glaring at everyone to try and stop her. He’d have laughed if he’d had the strength for it.

She manages to pull him into the bed in Erskine’s living quarters, somewhere down the long halls of the building, but by now Steve’s spiking a fever and his skin feels like it’s going to fall off. He barely registers the sparse furniture and bare walls, but the place smells strangely comforting, like home. 

Either that or his newly enhanced senses. And he’s pretty sure, somewhere in the haze of delirium, that Erskine wears the same cologne Bucky did.

“Peg… Peggy.” Oh God, it’s worse than when he was sickly, and how he misses that old skinny Steve Rogers now. He’d give anything to have him back right now, because this makes whatever the old Steve went through seem like a walk in the goddamn park. 

“Shh,” she soothes, getting a cool washcloth to rub on his face. 

“What’s happening to me?” Steve whispers.

“I don’t know, Steve. But you’re gonna be fine, right? We’ll figure it out. You’ll be fine.” It sounds to Steve like she’s trying to convince herself, and that more than anything scares him.

Just as she’s about to get up to find the doctor, Erskine walks briskly into the room and kneels at Steve’s side. Peggy continues to comfort him, whispering soothing things to him, much the way Bucky used to do when he was sick. His heart feels like it’s cracking, both literally and figuratively. The healthy eyes and ears he knew for a few brief seconds after coming out of the egg are no longer working properly; the world is wobbly, all the sights and sounds running together, and Steve reaches out for Bucky but Peggy is there, and that, he figures, is better than nothing.

He thinks Peggy’s asking the doctor what’s wrong with him, but can’t be sure of anything at the moment other than- oh, _ that _ \- and before he can help it, he lets out a long, throaty moan into the cool air of Erskine’s bedroom. 

Not much clarity is left in Steve’s brain but this thought comes, unbidden and unwelcome and full of the straight up fuckin’ truth: Steve’s in heat. The serum worked, he’s officially sexually matured now, and yeah, he was right this whole time. He’s an omega.

And he needs his alpha  _ now _ .

The sounds he’s making are utterly filthy. His face is flushed, both from arousal and humiliation as Peggy starts to understand what’s happening in front of her. He can vaguely see the sympathetic look she gives him before she walks out, leaving him with Erskine in the small room.

And Erskine’s trying to talk to him, so he uses all of his willpower to focus on the voice and face hovering above him.

“... right back… serum seems… maturity… be fine soo-… -ar me?”

Steve can’t hear more than that as a wave of  _ something  _ hits him. The feeling is so far beyond either pain or pleasure that there’s no way to describe it, not that he could if he wanted to at that moment. Whatever it is, it’s colored by sheer _ need. _

Erskine comes back what feels like hours later carrying a syringe- and when did the man even leave? The cool liquid slows his heart and controls his breathing and takes away a fraction of the intensity, just long enough for the rabbit hole to open underneath him.

It’s only as he falls towards blissful sleep that he realizes he’s been gasping “Bucky, Bucky, Bucky” like a prayer the whole time.

 

Steve dreams.

 

_ “You gonna show me you know how to be a good little omega?” _

_ “Fuck, Bucky, your mouth is so dirty.” _

_ “... that’s what you call dirty?” _

_ “Do you even know what good little omegas do??” _

_ “I don’t know, Steve, what do you think?” _

_ “Ugh, stupid alpha. Anyway, I’ve… heard things.” _

_ “And I bet the things you’ve heard are true. So I’ll ask you one more time: Are you gonna show me, or am I gonna have to show you?” _

_ “I’ll be good.” _

_ “I’ll be good?” _

_ “Sir. I’ll be good, sir.” _

_ “See? It’s a good start.” _

 

“So I’m definitely an omega.”

Steve’s been on his feet for a couple of days now, under the watchful eyes of the scientists and doctors on Erskine’s team who are still uncertain he’s alright, even though he feels like smacking some sense into them. Obviously, he’s alright. Once it was clear he was going into heat, it was a simple matter of administering anti-mating drugs to pull him out of it. And now he’s fine.

Well. As fine as can be expected, given the circumstances.

“Don’t worry,” Erskine assures him, pulling on his tweed jacket and fiddling with the cuffs, “everyone here has signed a non-disclosure agreement. Your secret is safe. There is only one problem we are facing now.”

“What’s that?”

Peggy enters the living quarters, listening intently.

“Well, the drugs will work for now. But you must understand, they don’t last forever. You’ll need to be mated, soon. Eventually, only the real thing will work.”

Steve groans. “That doesn’t even make sense! I can’t actually  _ be _ mated. I don’t have the parts. Unless our biology teacher was way mistaken. Or I was.”

“No, and I agree. It doesn’t make sense. Probably an evolutionary throwback of some sort. It simply is what it is, Mr. Rogers. The hormone supplements will last you approximately a year. You don’t have to find a life-mate in this time, you just have to have someone you trust enough to take care of you and get you through it. When you do, stop taking the supplements and go through the heat. And that’s how it’ll work. About once a year, you have to mate, but the rest of the time the hormones will keep it at bay, just as with any other omega.”

“And if I don’t have access to hormones?”

“Every three months, for about three days. And you’ll have to be kept away from any unbonded alphas in the vicinity. Really, the best you can hope for is finding an actual mate to bond you, but you know as well as I do that you can’t force something like that.”

 

_ “Steve, you can’t force me to leave this house.” _

_ “Fuck you, Bucky. Get out.” _

_ “Why are you so mad? All I did was dance with her, I swear it.” _

_ “So that’s why you smell like an omega in heat?” _

_ “If she was in heat, I couldn’t tell. My nose is only for you.” _

_ “Shut up, Bucky.” _

_ “Steve, you’re my everything, you gotta know that baby.” _

_ “Ugh, I know! Just give me some time, okay? I need some time.” _

_ “Okay. But it’s you and me. To the end of the line, pal. Don’t you forget it.” _

_ “Couldn’t even if I wanted to.” _

 

“No,” Steve says pensively. “I suppose you can’t.”

“Well, I must be off now. The USO is happy to have you on staff, Mr. Rogers. I will be catching up with you in a few weeks’ time, to see how everything is working. It’s been an honor.” Erskine goes quiet for a moment. “I know you have big things in your future, son. You’re gonna make me proud. I know in my heart I chose right.” 

Steve isn’t sure what to say to that, so he just holds out a hand, marveling at his strength as compared to just a few days ago. 

When Erskine walks out, Steve stares off into the distance.  _ Bucky,  _ he thinks.  _ I have to find him. I have to be with him. Please, God, let him be safe. _

He notices that Peggy is giving him a shrewd look. Damn the woman for being so sharp.

“There’s someone out there, isn’t there,” she says, more a statement than a question. Is he so transparent?

 

_ “Now you’re not gonna be stupid and tell people about us, right?” _

_ “You must think I’m stupid, Buck. Of course I’m not.” _

_ “Steve. This is serious. I could get a card and a court-martial if they find out, and you could get sent to jail.” _

_ “I am taking it serious, Barnes.” _

_ “Uh oh, the last name came out. That’s never good. Just, look, be good for me, okay? I’m so worried about you already.” _

_ “You don’t need to be-” _

_ “Steven. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna stop being worried about you, ever, so don’t go sayin’ shit like that ‘cause it ain’t gonna do you no good.” _

_ “I know. I love you so much, Bucky.” _

_ “I love you too, pumpkin pie.” _

_ “Asshole.” _

_ “Too late, you already said it.” _

 

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, kind of.” Suddenly, Steve is embarrassed about not having told her the truth before. “Sorry I didn’t, you know…”

“Didn’t what?” If anything, she seems amused.

“Well, I didn’t mean to, uh, lead you on, I guess…”

She breaks into a bright peal of laughter, and it’s gorgeous. “Steven. Still as awkward now as you were a hundred fifty pounds ago.” There’s a soft light in her eyes, a fondness.

Steve blushes. “It’s just that, you know…”

“... he’s an alpha, and you weren’t an omega.”

“Well. Yeah.”

“It’s alright. I get it. It’s a funny thing, you know. My best friend back in secondary school, he was an alpha. We were set to run off together, get married, the whole nine yards… but they tested us, three weeks apart our birthdays were, and when we learned I was a beta it broke our hearts, both of us. I spent weeks weeping with him, knowing our parents would never approve. We might have made it somewhere, had we left our families like we’d planned to years before, but that would’ve been a hard life no matter where we ended up.” She glances at Steve, eyes full of sympathy. “So you see, I do understand. And I am happy for you, Steve Rogers.”

He smiles at her softly. “Thank you, Peggy. For everything.”

“Absolutely. Now it’s time we plan your escape, isn’t it?” Steve gapes at her. “Don’t give me that face! I know you’re going to go find him the first chance you get. I approve, in fact, so get your ass over to the couch and we’ll figure it out!”

Steve chuckles and saunters over. “Yes, ma’am, you are the boss.”


	5. November 1943: Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finds Bucky. Nobody knows how to communicate.

He remembers pale golden hair, smooth skin, baby-fine fuzz down a flat stomach, ribs and collarbones and spine prominent on a skinny frame.

“Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557038. Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557038. Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557038. Barnes, James…”

He remembers the sound of happiness, a big booming laugh that swept upwards in the breeze, carried along by the sweet, hysterical giggle of a young man much too small for what he held inside.

“Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557038…”

The evil man- he can’t remember the asshole’s name now- is gone, having rushed out in quite a hurry, which brings him a sense of relief so profound he feels dizzy with it. The Asshole, for that’s what his name is in Bucky’s mind now, hasn’t gotten in any of his “fun” for the day before leaving. It seems unlikely he’ll be back anytime soon, given his apparent panic, but still. He has to focus on retaining his identity, in case The Asshole does back soon, and in who knows what mood. He can’t lose himself; he can’t afford to, _ refuses _ to, after all that’s been done to him already.

Bucky’s afraid that if he loses himself, he’ll end up losing Steve, too.

“Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557038.”

An apparition appears in front of him. Whatever radioactive goop they gave him a few days ago must be hallucinogenic, because this time what he sees is an utter impossibility. So he keeps going.

“Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557-”

“Bucky?... Oh my god.”

He squints. The face matches the voice. Must be a pretty strong hallucinogen. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck, it’s me. It’s Steve.”

He’s still pretty sure this is a lie, or maybe a trick, some way for them to torment him more, but he’ll play along for now. 

And it  _ feels _ awfully damn real, Steve unbuckling and lifting him out of-

Wait. 

Steve is  _ lifting _ him? 

Yeah, he’s definitely gone AWOL. Or more like  _ off  _ the wall. Officially cuckoo. 

Once he’s standing next to the… rather impressively large man who looks suspiciously like Steve, he swallows hard. Those eyes… they don’t lie. Steve’s eyes don’t lie. You couldn’t fake that blue infused with little swirls of green and grey, swirls so subtle you’d miss ‘em if you didn’t know what you were lookin’ for.

“I thought you were dead!” Not-Steve says to him, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, the relief in that voice.

“... I thought you were smaller…” 

What else can he say to this impossibility?

And then the day continues to get even weirder. He finds out Steve’s been… grown?... in some giant vat, and then there’s a guy with a fake red face that would be terrifying if he hadn’t been to hell and taken a little vacation there already _ thank-you-very-much _ and a rush for escape that pushes his body well beyond its limits and it’s just too. Damn.  _ Much. _

Once they’re safe, Steve forces him to rest- literally lays him down, tucks him in, and holds him there until he promises he’s going to sleep. 

Truth is, the dreams are worse than the fighting. He doesn’t want to sleep. Hell, he still doesn’t want to believe he’s lucky enough to have escaped The Asshole- Zola?- and his lair. He thinks maybe they put something into his mind, something that feels almost like a code, that makes his brain not work right. Maybe they implanted the nightmares themselves, or maybe that’s just a side effect of whatever happened to him.

But despite himself, Bucky does sleep, and in his exhaustion he doesn’t wake up to see Steve’s tear-streaked face in the corner.

 

The next few days pass quickly. There’s a part of him that wishes he was back in Zola’s lab sometimes, considering the way Steve looks at Peggy Carter. The cold, empty way Steve looks at  _ him _ now. The look of betrayal makes him feel nauseous. He’s even thrown up a couple of times. 

Thing is, there’s legitimate, valid reasons for his actions. He never thought he’d see Steve again. Steve wasn’t expected to mature; hell, he’s not sure Steve has even now. It hasn’t come up; it’s not like they have time to chit chat. Not to mention it’s a warzone, and people take comfort where they can when the next breath might be their last.

But Bucky still can’t shake the guilt. Can’t tell himself that what he’s done is okay because it’s not.

Steve is still happy he’s alive, of course. Even after the full-on brawl they had not even 24 hours after his rescue, they’ve been cordial with each other, poring over maps and reviewing battle strategies. They’re still soldiers, still friends, and there’s a job to do here. Whatever complicated shit there is between them can be straightened out later, or not at all if they don’t make it through this, which is a likely possibility.

 

_ “I can’t fucking believe you’d do this to me. How? How could you?? I thought I was your omega,  _ **_your_ ** _ omega! Why?” Steve’s voice drops to a pained whisper. “Why.” _

_ “I never thought I’d see you again, Steve! That’s why!” It’s a poor excuse, though, and they both know it. It’s exactly that- an excuse, not a reason. _

_ “Well, excuse me for rescuing you, then, if it would have been easier on you, your highness.” _

_ The emptiness in Bucky’s eyes is enough for Steve to throw up his hands and walk out of the tent. Steve doesn’t get it. Who can blame him? This isn’t something anyone should get.  _

 

Maybe it’s for the best. It’ll make it easier on them both when death comes for him.

At one point, Steve makes it clear to him that he should go home, get an honorable discharge and rest, but he’ll have none of that. Because despite what’s happened, despite this rift between them now, he will follow that skinny kid from Brooklyn into hell itself.

Still. Sometimes it feels like this  _ is _ hell itself, and he doesn’t mean the war, either.

A few weeks after the rescue, the Howling Commandos have been assembled and are ready to hunt for HYDRA. Steve, Bucky, and a few other officers sit in the briefing tent, looking over the map of Europe and the intel they’ve managed to gather.

Steve pulls Bucky aside before the meeting starts. “Hey. I want you to know… I want... I have no right to be mad at you.”

“Steve, yeah you do.”

“No, Buck, I don’t. We were never meant to be together. If things had been different... “ He sighs. “No matter. You have Amelie now, as you should. You deserve someone who can give you children. I never could have been that no matter what.”

“Steve-”

“No, Buck, don’t argue with me. I’m happy for you. I really am. You found something I was holding you back from.”

Bucky’s at a loss for words. They’re all there, in his head, dying to come out and clawing at the inside of his brain with their insistence, but when it comes to pushing anything out of his mouth, all he gets is static. So he lets Steve keep talking, even though it’s the last thing he wants to do or to hear.

“So we’re good. I promise. I’m still your brother and your best friend.” He almost gets the feeling that Steve wants to hear a real heartfelt congratulations about Peggy. An olive branch to show he’s happy for Steve, too.

Fat fucking chance, Rogers.

 

_ “I don’t care what you say, Steve. You’re going out.” _

_ “Why, so you can pawn me off on some dame who don’t give a lick about me, just so you can go off with your pretty little beta you can’t knock up and give it to her good ‘n hard?” _

_ “Fuck, Steve, your fuckin’ mouth. No, you walnut. It’s so you can come have a good time with me. You’re my brother and best friend. Just come with, I promise you’ll have fun. And if she doesn’t like you, we’ll ditch them for a change. Promise. Just c’mon.” _

_ Steve, God bless him, sighs and sulks into the bedroom to change. Bucky wishes he could make the dames love him, too. But this girl’s special. Steve should be willing to reach out and try, right? Her friend’s cute and the perfect sort of dork for him. Maybe this time it’ll work.  _

 

What a fucking hypocrite James Barnes is.

After a few moments, when it becomes clear Bucky is going to remain silent, Steve holds out his arm, and Bucky wraps his own around it, stepping forward to embrace Steve. Not as lovers, but the way men do, and he feels the longing twist inside his heart like a knife. It feels like he’s moving in a dream sequence. All he wants is to be with Steve, unclassified as he still may be, but he just can’t bring himself to say it. Or rather, his mouth doesn’t know how to say it. But his mind screams, and screams, and screams.

_ I don’t love Amelie, Steve. I love you. _

Steve walks away, expecting Bucky to follow, so he does. But his heart hurts. This is such a fucking mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. Next few will be short, but posted together.


	6. Interlude, February 1944: Steve

Fuck.

It’s too goddamn soon. He’s supposed to have another four solid months before the supplements stop working!

The haze is back. His eyes and ears feel fuzzy; it’s like a sensory deprivation nightmare. Dimly, he thanks everything good in the universe that he’s in the tent with Peggy and Phillips when it hits. Peggy knows what’s going on and knows she’s got only a few minutes before Steve’s advertising his heat all over the camp, and that would be a disaster with the number of unbonded alphas here.

“Let’s get you to a safehouse nearby; you should be alright there,” she murmurs to him, cool and calm as ever. They’re stuck in the ass end of nowhere, and Steve’s not sure how there’s an Allied safehouse in the ass end of nowhere  _ behind freakin’ enemy lines _ but he can’t ask. He can barely breathe, he’s so aroused. Even the sound of her voice sends tremors down his spine.

“Peggy… God, please…”

“Shh, it’s okay Steve, I know. I know.” 

Over and over she whispers to him, soothing words, some of them nonsensical, as she and Phillips practically carry him to the car. A few of the men confusedly glance their way, but before they can make anything of it, Peggy is gone like the wind. 

Once he’s at the safehouse, she pulls him over to the bed. He does his best to stumble over there on his own and avoid putting much weight on the poor woman, but it’s a near thing. He can’t imagine what this must be like for people who are not enhanced if it makes him this weak within the first half hour.

Peggy sets to work preparing the room for the two of them. Towels and washrags are of the utmost importance, as are plenty of food and fresh water. With his fast metabolism, burning this much energy is potentially dangerous, and it’s part of her job to make sure he’s stocked up and willing to eat. 

Steve’s so hard it hurts and he thinks he might end up coming without any stimulation whatsoever soon and that’s utterly terrifying because he can’t- he  _ won’t _ \- do that in front of a woman. No way in hell. That’s not something a gentleman does. He grits his teeth, knowing she isn’t going to leave his side for the next 48-72 hours, and settles in for the long haul.

But nature is an immovable force. Not two minutes after Peggy leans over and presses a cool washcloth to his sweating face, he comes right in his briefs.

“Oh, God,” he moans into the pillow, utterly humiliated. “I’m so sorry, Peggy, I’m so sorry…” Steve’s near tears at this point.

Peggy sighs. “Steve, you are not the first man who’s done that in front of me, and you won’t be the last. There is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a biological function.”

Despite the fact that his erection hasn’t gone down one bit, his humiliation is bad enough for him to gain a moment or two of functionality. “You’re a woman, Peggy. It’s not right for a man… for a man to… oh _ hhhhh- _ ” 

“It’s not right for a man to what, Steven?” she asks, prickly as anything despite her fear that Steve may need to be mated whether he wants it or not.

“It’s not right. It’s not right,” he whimpers repeatedly.

She’s really alarmed now. Should she call someone? The only person Steve would possibly want is Sergeant Barnes. But no, that won’t work- Barnes has a girl and Steve’s made it clear that their relationship is over. 

“I have to go find someone, Steve. I don’t know if you’ll make it through this-”

Steve, holding on to conscious thought for dear life, grabs her hand to stop her and immediately orgasms again. “No no no no no,” he whimpers into the pillow, knowing she’s right but as stubborn as he’s always been. 

The next wave hits him and he curls into a ball. Then the sobs come. “Where is he, Peggy? Where is Buck? I need him… I need him… Bucky…” 

His voice is ragged already and he doesn’t know how long it’s been but it’s definitely nowhere near long enough. How the hell is he going to make it through this? He’s flagging, ready to give in to being  _ mated _ , for Christ’s sake, and maybe two hours have passed, tops.

He repeats the name like a mantra, and maybe it is one. 

“Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.” 

Every now and then he whimpers or sobs, but it’s keeping out the worst of it so he focuses hard and pushes out every thought except for that name.

“Steven,” Peggy whispers. “I’ve got to go find someone. You need help.”

“Bucky Bucky Bucky…”

Steve doesn’t even hear her, he’s so far gone. The only thing that exists for him in this moment is the memory of his best friend making love to him, 

 

_ “... that’s it Stevie, come for me, just like a good little omega, that’s it, you’re so good for me…” _

 

the words of adoration that flow from those plump and perfect lips. The thought makes him come again, still in his trousers, and he whimpers helplessly. 

In the brief moments he has until the next wave hits, three things register. One, Peggy is gone, for which he feels a deep relief; she doesn’t need to see him like this. Two, only two hours have passed, and this is expected to last three whole days. How he’s going to make it through this is beyond him, considering he’s a sweaty mess with barely enough presence of mind to think, let alone take care of himself _ just two hours in _ . 

And three, he  _ really _ needs to get out of these clothes.

Instead, Steve just lies back and breathes, appreciating the break before the next wave inevitably crashes over him. 

Then he hears the voice of an angel.

It’s a hallucination, it has to be.  _ This is too much, I can’t do this. God, what am I going to do? _

He mewls and begs and sobs, folding in on himself as the apparition approaches. The Bucky-thing of his hallucination walks to the bed, face stricken, and pulls Steve’s messy clothes off. Then he’s wrapped up in safe arms, with the angel’s voice in his ear whispering soothing words. Those words are as real as he is, somehow.

No, he decides. It’s not a hallucination. He’s dead. He died and went to heaven, and this is the best moment of his entire existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the boys get together again! Will it last, though?


	7. Interlude, February 1944: Bucky

 

The scent appears as if by magic. One minute he’s surrounded by the usual smells of a military camp: unwashed men, horse shit, and despair. Next thing he knows, he’s wrapped up in Steve Rogers. The clean and pure scent of his best friend- only now, there’s something new in it, a harmony of scents that send shivers through him even as he feels like he’s been set on fire.

It’s mating hormones. Steve’s in heat.

_ Shit. _

There are entirely too many unbonded alphas here, himself included, that will end up fighting over him, despite the fact that most of them prefer women. And not just because of some biological directive; Captain America is an absolute badass, and every alpha here would fuck the misery out of him in a heartbeat. It sure as hell wouldn’t be a sacrifice on anyone’s part. 

He starts walking quickly towards the tent on the other side of the camp where Steve usually meets with the Colonel and Ms. Carter. He’s worried he’ll be too late, that an alpha will have claimed him and that Steve will not be in a state of mind to say ‘no’- either that or he’ll want nothing to do with Bucky and mate with another alpha by his own choosing. 

Bucky’s stomach churns at the thought, mating hormones swimming through his own blood now, and anger rises with them. Someone’s probably going to get his ass beat if they think Bucky would let anyone else mate with his Stevie. 

_ Several  _ someones. 

Because the thing is, Bucky’s not quite the man he used to be. 

In more ways than one.

He’s sprinting by the time he realizes that no one else has noticed anything amiss… well, except for him running across camp like a bat out of hell. Can no one else smell Steve?

Oh, right. The serum. 

Counting his lucky stars, he slows down a bit. The tent is visible now. He’s prepared to fight nonetheless; just because they don’t know it yet doesn’t mean they won’t. But he’s confident he’ll make it to Steve first. Unless maybe Phillips is an alpha, in which case it’s probably time for some violence, but he’s never smelled it on the man- yet another thing to be grateful for. 

Before he gets all the way there, Peggy drives up in the car, stopping by the captain’s tent. Relief washes over her face when she sees him striding up. 

“Bucky!”

The broad’s never given him the time of day, and now she wants to bother him? And use his nickname on top of that? This is new.

“Agent Carter.” He can be respectful, but this is the woman who’s been by Steve’s side the whole time, unlike him. He hates her for that, for the way that Stevie looks at her, but not as much as he hates himself.

“You need to come with me,” she says to him, not moving from the front seat of the car. The relief is still there on her face, but there’s an undertone of anxiety, too. What the hell’s going on?

“With all due respect, Ms. Carter, I need to take care of something-”

“It’s about Steve Rogers.”

That stops him short. 

“What about him?” he asks cautiously.

“Just trust me on this, okay? I’ll tell you on the way.”

Bucky stares hard at her, trying to figure out if she’s playing some game. Since he received Zola’s sub-par serum, he’s noticed that people are much easier to read; he can anticipate certain feelings, sometimes even words. Peggy Carter isn’t trying to mislead him, he’s sure of that. Which means Steve’s in some kind of trouble.

“I swear to God, that kid,” he mutters to himself as he climbs into the passenger’s seat.

What he learns on the ride to the safehouse is almost more than he can bear. A lot of emotions tear through his body- worry, confusion, even excitement.  _ Especially _ excitement. 

But there’s one thought on top of all that: why the hell didn’t Steve say anything?

When he asks Peggy about it, she glances pensively at her hands on the steering wheel. “You’ll have to talk about it with Steve. It’s not my business. I’m sorry.”

Bucky huffs in frustration but pushes the feeling down. Stevie needs him, and Peggy’s taking him there. And he is very, very thankful for that. 

Because now, as much as he hates to admit it, he’s got Steve to himself. No other alphas, and no Peggy to get between them. And if what Peggy says is right, he’s asked for Bucky specifically. 

Maybe there’s hope for their relationship after all.

 

The sight of Steve, sweaty on the bed, helpless, and utterly wrecked pulls a strange mix of emotions out of him. There’s love and arousal and not a little bit of shame. Is he being selfish for wanting this? Is he taking advantage of Steve? It’s not like Steve could easily say no at this point, even if he didn’t want Bucky. 

Suddenly, Bucky’s not quite as keen on jumping into bed as he had been. 

“Bucky, oh god Bucky, I need you, I need you, please,” Steve begs, and Bucky’s not sure the other man knows he’s even here. He doesn’t think so, anyway, and that gives him the courage to approach his best friend.

“Stevie, baby, shhhh, it’s okay, I’m here, it’s okay,” he tells Steve repeatedly while he strips him down, ignoring the desperate hands that grab at him, trying to pull him down. 

It’s hard not to give in to the demands, but somehow Bucky manages, knowing that in a short while, he won’t be in much control over his actions either. He grabs a washrag and wets it at the sink, all the while making soothing noises in Steve’s direction. They seem to have no effect on the omega; if anything, hearing Bucky’s voice makes him more desperate. Bucky thinks if Steve could walk right now, he’d be rubbing against his leg like a dog in heat. 

The image is disturbingly erotic- the mating hormones are getting to him, that’s gotta be it- so he hurries over to press the rag against Steve’s hot skin. His omega’s body vibrates at every single touch, so aroused by now that nearly anything might set him off. The sight of Steve’s cock, lying hard and heavy and dark on his stomach, makes Bucky groan with desire.

Finally, Steve is clean- well, relatively- and wrapped up in Bucky’s arms. By this point, Steve’s begging him over and over  _ fuck me fuck me fuck me  _ and he desperately,  _ desperately  _ wants to, but he’s afraid. He’s got to make sure that Steve really wants this. Somehow.

There isn’t much time left. Pretty soon, he won’t be able to resist. His head’s getting fuzzy too.

And he needs to be able to walk away if Steve indicates in any way that this is unwanted.  

“Stevie, baby,” he murmurs. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

“Yes. Yes, sir, Bucky,  _ fuck _ , will you please fuck me, ohmy _ God _ -” Steve starts whimpering pitifully, and Bucky decides he’s going to have to walk a line here. He needs to take control of the situation without losing control of himself. 

_ Whew boy, here we go. _

He climbs atop the omega, tightening his thighs around Steve’s hips and pushing him against the bed with one hand against his chest. He wraps the other around Steve’s thick neck, a clear position of dominance.

“Steven Grant Rogers.”

The tone of Bucky’s voice makes Steve arch up against him and gasp, but his eyes widen and stare straight at Bucky, which is good. The goal is to get his attention. Even though the action makes his own cock strain painfully at his combat fatigues.

“I need you to listen to me, Stevie. Can you do that?” 

Steve nods earnestly. 

“I want you so bad, baby, but I have to make sure you really want this. You, not your body. If not, I’ll go back to camp and send anyone else you want, okay? I’m sure the boys’ll be lining up to help you out. Can you be honest with me, Steve?”

Steve’s eyes roll into the back of his head. It takes him a moment to gather enough wits for a full sentence. “Yes. Yes, I can. I understand, Buck.” 

“Good. Let’s get you a bite to eat while we chat, yeah? You need to keep up your strength.”

He knows what it’s like to have an increased metabolism, although he hasn’t shared that with any of the men, not even Steve. He knows Steve needs to eat, because heaven knows the next few days aren’t going to be kind to him.

But Bucky is. Bucky’s going to take care of him like he’s the most precious thing in the entire universe. 


	8. Interlude, February 1944: Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky get it on.

The hormones are reducing him to nothing but desire, and the scent of his alpha is not helping matters, but on some level, Steve understands what Bucky needs from him right now. And once he has that, they can fuck. The real thing this time. The right way. Not some “unnatural” mating that makes them feel guilty no matter how good it is or how right it feels.

Some people might think they should feel guilty over the homosexual aspect, but more often, the problem is breeding status. Alpha/omega pairs are the only fertile couples in society, after all, and they’re rare enough. But what the hell is Steve supposed to do? Suffer through it? The only way any of this horrible-wonderful-overwhelming feeling is going to go away is if he’s mated. Steve never asked for this. 

And his best friend, his soulmate, his alpha, is right here. Screw those traditional-minded idiots. 

Bucky’s got him sitting up against the wall on the far side of the bed, while Bucky himself sits in the chair Peggy recently vacated. Steve forces himself to focus on eating and drinking, even though his hands are trembling beyond his control and Bucky is hungrily staring at him. He spares a moment to scowl at the other man; it was his idea to put off the fucking for the sake of his _ feelings _ . 

But hey, maybe that’s not fair. Steve knows he’s guilty of poor communication here, letting his jealousy get away from him and never actually saying something about it. 

He sighs and closes his eyes, but then another heat wave rolls through him and he doubles over, pelvic muscles spasming deliciously. 

“Buck,” he gasps. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing here, but you better get it over with soon or this won’t be pretty.” By the time the sentence is finished, he’s out of breath, as though the serum never happened and he’s nine years old again, laid out on Bucky’s parents’ kitchen table on the verge of losing consciousness.

Bucky takes a deep breath. He blinks, slow and wide. He looks like an owl, and Steve gives a strangled laugh.

“The hell’s that for? You laughin’ at my face now?”

“Bucky-  _ fuck. _ ” Deep breath. In and out, nice and slow. “How did we end up here anyway.”

“The world is stupid, that’s how. Now what are we going to do about it, that’s the real question.”

Steve closes his eyes, focuses on the sound of his alpha’s voice. The sound of home. 

“Well, I know what I want to do about it,” he pants.

“I need you to be sure, Steve. I’m not going to rape you, I refuse to do that. So I need to know it’s what you really want.”

Steve hangs his head. Buck’s right; this is stupid.

“I know you think I can’t think straight right now, Buck, but I know one thing. You’re the only person I ever wanted in my life. Hasn’t changed.” He groans and tips his head back against the wall.

“So what about Carter then? You could make a life with her, you know.”

Steve looks at Bucky, and the other man flinches away from the hurt in those bright blue eyes. “Did you not hear what I said just now?”

“Come on, Steve. You know how indecent people think this kind of thing is. You could have a real life with her. Without worrying if people are gonna hurt you, or call you a ‘fag,’ or whatever. You could hide your heats-”

“And what, suffer through this alone?” At that, he hunches over again, cock twitching between his legs. He’s so far gone that any humiliation he might’ve felt doesn’t even register.

“I know it’s not fair, Steve-”

“Don’t you  _ not fair  _ me, Buck. Don’t you dare.” 

Steve means it to come out forceful, angry, but once again he feels like that little dork back in Brooklyn, too small to do more than yap with furious impotence. 

It’s getting to be too much now. He hangs his head in defeat. “I didn’t ask for this, you know? I don’t want anyone else, but I can’t go through it alone. I can’t.” The tears start running down his cheeks. He’s pathetic. 

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again. “I’m not with Amelie anymore, Steve. I broke it off with her the night I got back to camp. I didn’t bond her. I never had any intention of bonding her. It’s the same for me, Stevie. I never wanted anyone but you, either.”

“Then why are we having this conversation, Barnes? Fucking get over here and take care of me.”

The relief and elation on Bucky’s face brings joy to Steve’s heart. Maybe he needed Steve’s forgiveness for being with Amelie. 

Steve intends to show him he’s got it- and then some.

 

Everything that happens next is hazy.

The sensation of Bucky’s skin against his own sends him flying off the edge for the fifth or sixth climax of the day, and he wonders briefly how in the hell it’s possible to come so many times without dying. He figures it must have something to do with either the serum or his omega physiology, but there’s no room for complaint. 

In fact, there’s no room for much of anything except  _ Bucky _ .

There’s no time for foreplay, either. Maybe they can get to that later, but the room is swimming in pheromones and it has to be now, now  _ now  _ Bucky, god Bucky please,  _ please- _

Steve’s damn happy that Buck found a bottle of vaseline in this place and still has the presence of mind to use it, because there is nothing now but brightness; he can’t see, can’t hear, there is nothing but touch and the feel of Bucky and his breath against the back of his neck, and oh-

_ Oh _ . 

Steve whimpers and immediately comes again, thankfully onto the towel below him, the instant Bucky’s seated inside him and that, of course, causes Bucky to need approximately two thrusts to follow him over the edge with a long groan.

The sweat is dripping off of both of them as they lay next to each other, first sharing a look of chagrin and then breaking into bright peals of laughter. Tears run down Buck’s face as he tries to suck in a breath.

“You’re kiddin’ me, right Stevie?” he asks when he can breathe. “Am I twelve again or something?”

“Nah. I’m just that sexy.”

“Oho, yeah? Keep tellin’ yourself that, you little shit.”

“Ain’t nothin’ little about me, Buck, not anymore.”

“You got that right.” Bucky glances down at Steve and sees he’s fully erect again. Just the sight is enough to have Bucky ready to go again, too. 

Steve swallows when he sees the gleam in his alpha’s eyes. They press together to kiss, and their skin is hot and feverish. 

And that’s what it feels like to Steve: fever. Just like it did when he’d gotten pneumonia or a bad case of the flu. Like he’s at death’s door and delirious. There’s a similar fear in this, but something else rides underneath it, something exotic and exhilarating, something right and real and _ raw _ and made just for the two of them. 

He pulls back from Bucky’s kiss. Bucky immediately starts kissing down his face, jaw, and neck, nipping here and there with sharp teeth and making Steve involuntarily gasp.

“Buck, hey, hey.” The alpha stops and looks up, concerned. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. We’re gonna lose control, aren’t we? That’s what I’ve heard happens. I’m scared.” 

“I know. Shit’s gonna get real weird here soon, Steve. Twelve hours in, we won’t be able to understand much, neither of us. ‘S why we gotta eat and drink when we can, alright? I’m here to take care of you, though; I want you to relax and try to enjoy this. You’re  _ made _ to enjoy this.” He takes Steve in hand as evidence. 

Bucky lays himself on top of Steve’s body, thighs framing the omega’s hips. “I love you with everything I am, Steven Grant Rogers. I want you to be mine.” He brushes his lips against Steve’s, a whisper of a touch to go with the whisper of his words. “Will you be mine?”

Steve arches up against him. “Yes, yes yes yes I will, Bucky, you know it’s all I ever wanted, please claim me, please-”

Steve’s near hysterics with the need to feel Bucky inside him once more. So Bucky does the only thing he can do for his guy.

He claims him.

With a growl befitting a predator, he thrusts into Steve, all the way to the hilt in one go. Steve screams, not even caring about the fact that they’re behind enemy lines, and comes all over his stomach, thick ropes of sticky fluid which Bucky smears messily between them as he starts to move. Bucky fucks him far harder than ever before; Steve never realized before just how much the other man was holding back when they used to fuck back in that shabby Brooklyn flat. 

Within a minute, Steve’s hard again. The friction between his stomach and Bucky’s drives him towards the edge. His friend’s already losing the rhythm, close to orgasm himself. 

The O of Bucky’s face as he approaches climax gives Steve’s hormone-addled mind an idea. He puts a hand between them and smears some of the come and precome collecting on his belly onto his fingertips, then reaches up and inserts them into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s eyes widen almost comically, or what would be comical if Steve weren’t coming just as he feels Bucky let go inside him.

They try taking another moment to rest and eat, but it’s clear this is going to become a non-stop fuckfest within the next hour.

Bucky looks at Steve, expression serious. “You remember our little red, yellow, green system?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t forget it now, hear me?”

“... you’re holding back?” Steve is somewhat amused by this revelation.

“Well, yeah. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Wow, Buck. No faith in my new body to handle whatever you can throw at me?”

Bucky looks shocked for an instant and then his mouth transitions to a sly grin. “You’re askin’ for it, Rogers. Careful what you ask for.”

The blood is pounding in Steve’s ears as he tries to scarf down some of the fruit, an undeserved luxury in the middle of a warzone. He swallows before he replies, just to make sure his alpha hears him loud and clear.

“I’m not askin’ you. I’m givin’ orders. You better fuck me into next year.”

Bucky places a palm against his heart and assumes an air of scandal. “Why, Captain Rogers, I do believe you have the biggest potty mouth I have ever heard.” He fans himself with his hand, all dainty and ridiculous. Steve can’t help the way the corner of his mouth quirks up, despite how much he’d rather be stern and disapproving. The Captain America face never did work on Bucky Barnes. 

But Bucky stops joking the instant Steve kneels in front of him, displaying himself submissively in the manner omegas at the birthing centers are taught to do, face down and palms reaching out in front. Ready to mate, but more importantly, ready to do as their alphas say. Bucky pounces.

Steve offers no resistance when Bucky slides into him again. His body is so relaxed, so ready to be bred, and his best friend knows exactly how to manipulate Steve’s body to his advantage. Steve just lets it go, lets it happen, lets Bucky do what he does best: take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and kudos. I am pleasantly surprised at the amount of support I am getting! You guys are an amazing community! <3


	9. Interlude, February 1944: Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The relationship changes.

Twelve hours, sixteen orgasms, and countless towels later, the men are granted a reprieve from the mating drive. They eat and drink, use the bathroom and rest on the bed, exhausted and thankful for the break.

Bucky lies on his back and gathers Steve to his chest, running his fingers through the blonde strands. They’re both sweaty and sticky even after a brief wash-down, but there’s nothing they can do about it, really, until the heat is over. No point in actually heating water and taking a real bath until then. And at the moment, it’s not like Bucky really cares. He’s got his Steve, and his omega is safe. That’s really all that matters.

“Hey, Stevie?”

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve mumbles into his chest.

“This is normal for a man in heat, right? To come so much?”

Steve raises his head and meets his eyes. “Well, I’ve never done this before, so I can’t say for sure,” he says drily, “but Dr. Erskine did tell me my body would know what to do.”

He nods. “Peggy told me you’ve been on hormone suppressants. It’s too early though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It is. But my metabolism’s a lot faster now, so maybe that’s why they stopped working so quickly? That’s my guess.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Still. Fuck. I hope you don’t turn around and go into heat again right away, ‘cause there’s no way I can keep up with this more than once every few months, you know?”

“Hey, how do you think I feel? I don’t want to be stuck with that either. But wait… you mean it? You plan to do this with me again?”

Steve’s voice sounds plain and scared. It irritates the shit out of Bucky. He looks at Steve like he’s a goddamn moron, because he is.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ idiot. Did you think I was lying to you before?”

“I…” Steve curls in on himself as the hormones kick in again. “I guess I’m just… afraid? There’s so much going on… we’re kinda desperate here… and I have men to lead, and who knows what they’re gonna think of us now- _fuck, already, again-?_ ”

Bucky places his palms on either side of Steve’s face, running thumbs over his cheekbones.

“Stop. Don’t stress yourself out, baby. I’m here, and I’m taking care of you, and nothing else exists right now, okay? The war and everything else will still be there once this is over. And you don’t gotta worry about what anyone says. We’re your men, and we’re with you. End of the line, remember? No one’s dumb enough to think that because you’re an omega, that means you can’t lead us, alright?”

Steve shivers in his arms. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. But Buck... “

“Steve. Stop.”

The change in his tone from concerned to commanding blows Steve’s pupils wide. Bucky licks his lips, fascinated and hungry as he watches the black overtake the blue of his omega’s beautiful eyes. They’re both hard again, and Steve’s breaths are shallow and fast.

Bucky’s hormones are peaking and he knows it. He’s been trying to hold back still, even though Steve might not realize it. In truth, he’s somewhat afraid of what he’s capable of now, although with every passing hour he finds it harder to care. And Steve can take anything he can dish out now, he’s fairly certain of that. So he decides he’s done with the bullshit.

He reaches down and grabs Steve by the neck, loosely but with purpose.

“I need you to listen to me. You’re going to stop doubting my loyalties. You’re going to stop doubting your worth, too. You are _mine_ , the most precious thing in this entire universe to me, and the whole world’s gonna know it soon. Do you understand that, Stevie?”

“Bucky-”

He tightens his grip and Steve falls quiet. “You’re gonna answer me ‘ _yes, sir’_ or ‘ _no, sir_.’ I will punish you if you talk back.”

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir,” Steve gulps under his hand.

“Good, baby.” He loosens his grip, and notices that his fingers are shaking, practically vibrating. “That’s real good,” he whispers, trying to be easy, but his voice has dropped half an octave and it sounds menacing to his own ears, so he can only imagine what Steve hears. Then he chuckles deep in his chest, and it sounds like a predator. So it’s no surprise when Steve lets out a little whine amidst his hot, shallow breaths.

“We’re doing this all my way from now on, do you understand? Yes or no.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. On your back.”

He moves over to give the omega some room, closing his eyes and practically swooning when the air around Steve brings the scent of ripe omega to his nose. Steve follows directions perfectly, and fuck, does he want to ravage him. That ridiculous body, with its hard ridges and slim waist… it’s almost enough to make him lose himself to the mating hormones again. But he has something he needs to do before he can let that happen.

Bucky kneels between Steve’s spread legs, reveling in the sight of his best friend laid out before him, wide open and ready for the taking. The sight of his come still leaking from Steve’s hole makes him moan uncontrollably, and Steve’s eyes roll into the back of his head at the noise. Steve wraps his legs around his waist, trying to pull him in closer, trying to get Bucky inside of him.

“Look at me. Look at me when I take you.”

Steve obediently meets his eyes, and Bucky pushes into him, hard and fast, all at once. Steve’s eyes widen and he lets out a long, low moan that seems to go on forever. Bucky thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard in his life.

As Steve’s eyes close in ecstasy, Bucky takes his neck in one hand again. “I said look at me. Don’t close your eyes.”

Steve is limp underneath him, pliable and ready to take whatever it is that Buck has to give him, but he can’t seem to meet his alpha’s eyes. Bucky stops on a dime, even though every instinct cries out at him to keep going, to fuck this beautiful man until neither of them can breathe anymore.

Steve mewls again, needy.

“You’d better look at me, Steven,” Bucky snarls at him.

When Steve opens his eyes, Bucky can’t find any blue in them. They’re darker than he’s ever seen them and glassed over. Steve is absolutely and utterly gone. Unbelievably, his cock gets even harder at the thought that he can do this to his omega.

“I’m gonna bond you now. I already told you you’re mine, didn’t I?”

Steve’s body writhes underneath him, even though there is no acknowledgement in his eyes that he’s even heard the pronouncement. His hips grind upwards as he tries to get Bucky deeper, and Bucky can’t help but return the motion.

“Nnnngh.”

“Tell me you want it. Beg me.” Bucky’s voice is utterly wrecked by now, more than it’s been all day despite the number of times he’s gotten off. He fucks into Steve as hard as he can, salivating at the chance to mark Steve as his own. “Tell me, Steve. Beg me. I want to hear you say it. Tell me you’re mine.” He punctuates it with a thrust that would have knocked anyone lighter straight off the bed.

“Nnnn. Yours. Your- ahhhhh- _fuck_ . I- _god_ \- love you, fuckin’ love you, Bucky…”

“Who do you belong to, Steven?”

“You, you, I belong to you, sir. You, always. Forever. Please, mark me. Make me yours. Please… _aunnngh_ \- ”

Steve lets loose an impressive number of nonsense words and sounds as he approaches orgasm, Bucky pounding him into the bed with abandon now.

“Oh, Steve, oh baby, babydoll… gonna come now, Steve, gonna mark you, I love you so much baby…”

As his climax approaches, he leans down towards Steve and tilts his neck to the side, leaving him vulnerable and open, and _oh_ , the trust his omega has in him to let him do this makes the rush ever so much sweeter. With a shout, he sinks his teeth into the flesh between Steve’s neck and shoulder, grabbing and holding on, worrying the skin withhis teeth while Steve gives a strangled cry that vibrates all through his arm and down his body. He digs in, forcing his teeth to break the perfect skin and tasting the blood that trickles from the wound, triumphant and possessive and proud to have this wonderful man finally be _his_ , the way he was always meant to be. Steve arches up against him and comes just as the bite sinks in, body trembling beneath Bucky’s.

When he can get his bearings again, he’s shaking like a leaf in the wind and Steve’s out cold next to him. The bond-mark is bright, still trickling blood, and Bucky knows that even upon Steve’s new scar-free body, that mark will never fade. It’s there forever.

Steve is finally his.


	10. March 1945: Steve

The drink is a comfortable weight in his hand. A known quantity, at the very least. Even if it doesn’t get him drunk anymore.

Two good men died today. He has to take what little comfort he can. Erskine, found tortured to death at a HYDRA base, beaten and bloody and surrounded by broken glass vials. And Bucky, well. Best not to ponder that too hard.

Steve can feel the men’s eyes on him from across the room. They’re trying to be happy, or at least trying to celebrate the simplicity of being alive, but it’s hard to do when Bucky’s gone and their Captain’s sitting in the corner with a shattered heart. He wishes he could do something, _anything-_ give a toast to the lives of his Sergeant and the scientist to whom he owes his new body and strength and probably his own life, the way they’d do with any downed comrades. He owes that to his men.

Steve wishes he could be a better Captain than this. Men die in war all the time, men served with and lived with and sometimes loved; maybe Steve’s more of a coward than he’d always thought himself. The realm of the physical, even death, never scared him. But being broken emotionally is one of the worst things that can happen to a person, and he’d rather deal with a lifetime of broken bones and split lips than feel this ache in his heart. And Erskine’s death alone would’ve been hard enough, especially considering the manner of it. Long and painful, and it sends a knife through Steve’s heart every time he thinks of it. At least Bucky died quickly.

But Bucky’s also different. He’s not just any downed comrade. He’s not just Steve’s friend. He’s his _bondmate_. Surely no one would expect Steve to be alright mentally after something like this. The mating mark was worn proudly after that first heat finished. No one at camp had any doubts to whom he belonged, and God bless them, they’d all accepted it for what it was. No prejudice was worth their brotherhood. And after his second heat… despite himself, Steve blushes at the memory of their cheering.

His jaw clenches as the mark at the juncture of neck and shoulder throbs. That mark will never go away, not unless he is willing to bond with another alpha, which means never. Bucky’s the only person he’ll ever love. That mark, the love bite that he can feel every second of every day, will never let him forget.

Steve will feel the icy wind whip across his face and sting his eyes over and over again until the day he dies. He’ll smell the crisp mountain air, feel the cold rail against his gloved hand and the stretch in his abdomen as he reaches, too little too late, for Bucky.

He’ll hear the scream, watch his bondmate fall to his death on the mountain below, every second of every day for the rest of his godforsaken life.

How is any of this fair? He’s never done anything but try to live a good life, to love and laugh as much as possible and fight for what he believes is right.

The whiskey glass shatters in his fist, but he doesn’t even feel it.

Peggy walks into the bar. Several men, none of whom are Howling Commandos, thank goodness, whistle seductively at her. She looks unbelievably beautiful in the dim light and briefly Steve finds himself wishing he could’ve had her, if only to save himself the heartbreak of this moment.

But no. _That’s_ not fair- to anyone involved. Nor is it particularly true.

A few men across the room are eyeing her in a disturbing manner and he moves to protect her, but she glances at him and merely raises a hand. Even with his enhanced hearing, he can’t quite catch what she says to them, but all three of them suddenly seem to have something more important to do.

Steve is happy he didn’t have to get involved in whatever little altercation she just stopped. He’s not sure what might’ve happened if that had been the case. Today feels less like a fight or flight day and more like a fight or fall apart one. And a couple of abusive soldiers sure as hell ain’t gonna make him fall apart.

He watches Peggy make the rounds, talking to the men, smiling at a joke here and patting a shoulder in sympathy there. She is truly an amazing woman, able to do the things for his men that he can’t even do himself. He isn’t sure if that makes him a terrible Captain or her an extraordinary woman.

Probably a little of column A, little of column B.

Peggy is an entirely different kind of person, truth be told. He knows what she’ll say to him tonight, and he knows she’ll be right. Still, it won’t be easy to hear, and he’s a stubborn punk besides. Just like his Bucky always said.

She approaches him last, sitting easily on the next bar stool over.

“I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t think I can handle it right now, Peg.”

“It’s okay, Steve, I understand. We all grieve in our own ways, and this is more than simple grief. But your men and this world still need you. So don’t forget that, okay?” Her voice is gentle but there is steel resolve behind her shining eyes. The heavens smiled upon the earth when they made Peggy Carter.

He grimaces at the mess on the bar. He should clean it up himself- mama taught him better’n to just leave it- but even that seems like asking too much.

“I appreciate everything, Peggy. I just need... I need to go lie down now. Promise I won’t forget the rest of the world. Just need some time, okay?”

She gives him a small smile and angles her head in acknowledgement as he leaves a tip on the table and walks upstairs to his room.

 

The problem with using an inn as a temporary base, Steve thinks, is that it quickly comes to hold the character of the people who stay there. It’s a transient thing, but it’s synergistic, too. He can still smell Bucky, the sharp tang of his alpha, in the pillow under his face. His enhanced senses amplify his natural abilities as an omega, and the smell surrounds him like a blanket. Smothers him, more like. The perfect memory Erskine’s serum gave him means he can hear Bucky’s voice whispering in his ear, an echo of years past. An echo he'd heard in his best moments and his worst moments. An echo that makes him remember every moment between, Bucky's eyes on his and Bucky's fingers meshed with his and Bucky's voice drowning out his own-

 

_“... that’s it Stevie, come for me, just like a good little omega, that’s it, you’re so good for me…”_

 

It is _not_ helping.

He stares around the room listlessly, not really seeing anything. Then he’s not sure if he’s losing consciousness or in a true waking nightmare as the memory of this morning comes back to him, the memory that he’d been trying to avoid.

There, in that corner.

 

_“Hey, Rogers, I think they’re gonna need to dry clean that suit soon. Shame you’re so messy, ain’t it?”_

_“Bucky. It was your idea to fuck in the suit.”_

_“Oh no, you don’t get to blame it on me. It’s your suit.”_

_“Isn’t my alpha supposed to take care of me? ‘s what the law says.”_

An intense stare, Buck’s grey eyes nearly sparkling even in the dim light of morning. “ _Yeah, I’m gonna take care of you alright, Stevie. Don’t you worry about that.”_

 

Steve barely makes it to the toilet before he throws up. There’s not much in his stomach other than the alcohol that doesn’t even fucking work anymore, so it’s more bile than anything, green and sour in his mouth to match his soul.

He leans against the toilet seat and now, finally, the tears start running. Even the serum can’t protect him from a broken heart.

Bucky, at that sink.

 

_“We’re gonna get this bastard today. I hope he said his prayers this morning.”_

_“Don’t know why he’d bother. He’s going to hell and I’m sendin’ him there.”_

_“Hey, I’m the one who he tortured. I should get the killing blow, don’t you think?”_

_“Only if you get there first.”_

 

Steve had been more angry at the idea of someone torturing his mate than he would have been if someone had tortured himself, and Bucky knew that. So it’d been a game- catch Zola and make him pay. Rogers, Barnes, separately, together- didn’t matter.

Now, though, Bucky is gone for good, and Zola’s still out there. Who knows how many other people he’s tortured? How many will fall to the same fate as Bucky has- or worse?

The thought of Zola’s fat, smug face brings something else to the surface, something darker, and suddenly Steve is destroying the place, almost like he’s not even aware of his own actions. Even though his enhanced strength means that the room is wrecked in two seconds flat, it doesn’t stop him. He’s a tornado of rage and anguish.

Their small pack, which contains everything the two of them have- _had_ \- in this world, goes flying like a fighter plane; when it hits the wall, Steve hears a clink and cringes. Hopefully, nothing is broken. And no temper tantrum can bring Bucky back from the dead, so the anger dies as suddenly as it started.

But then something occurs to him.

There’s nothing in his bag, not that he’s aware of, that would make that noise. What do they have that’s fragile enough to break?

Frowning, he picks up the bag, pulling their few possessions out carefully. His breath catches when he sees the box, carefully wrapped in a pair of Buck’s combat fatigues.

_No, please don’t let this be what it looks like._

But it is. Steve opens the box and pulls out a leather collar, buckles new and shiny in the cool lamplight, the legal pledge of an alpha and omega’s devotion to each other. Omegas are expected to submit to their alphas, and alphas are required to watch over and care for their omegas; this is the acknowledgement of that bond and that devotion. It’s of a quality so high it must’ve cost a fortune. Probably half a year’s pay in the Army, if he had to guess. How his alpha had afforded something this nice, he’ll never know.

Steve’s shocked more than anything and thinks he might be all cried out at this point, at least until he reads the inscription on the inside of the collar. Then the night implodes, and he knows nothing but agony and terrible, terrible loneliness until Peggy comes along to pull him out of it the next morning.

_To the end of the line and beyond, I will take care of you, my love. -JBB_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the angst. :/
> 
> An extra huge thanks goes out to my beta, Arke, for this chapter. Boy did she turn a hot mess into something pretty.


	11. December 1945: Bucky

The thing about torture is, everyone has a breaking point. People can endure, sometimes for a long time, sure, but try hard enough and you’ll find that point in everybody. Granted Bucky’d gotten Zola’s second-rate serum, which was a pale imitation of what Erskine had given Steve, but it's allowed him to endure more than the average human being without breaking. Hell, it’s allowed him to _survive_ some things most humans wouldn’t have.

Still, he doesn’t know how much more he can take. And he has a sneaking suspicion they’ve been going easy on him. ‘Easy’ being relative, of course.

He quiets his breathing to hear them, but his heart is racing out of control. They’re in the next room and getting closer. They’ll be here soon. And he’s terrified. He is, after all, only human.

“... is, he’s not in good enough shape for another dose.” He recognizes that voice- the doctor, the one who operated on his arm, the one who was there and smiling, actually _smiling_ , when he woke up on the operating table with a metal arm and the realization that his life was over. Or perhaps worse: beginning anew.

“He must be given another! We need to know whether the serum has improved.”

“I understand that, sir. Can you not try it on another subject?”

He isn’t so much a subject anymore as an object, he knows, but that is just a matter of semantics.

“No,” Zola responds impatiently. “Sergeant Barnes is the FIST of HYDRA. He is the only one strong enough to handle the serum, and he must be a weapon. So you will have to figure something out.”

“Aren’t you the one who told me he must be broken and rebuilt first? Why make him even stronger if he’ll be able to attack you or kill you before you can break him fully?”

Bucky shudders. He’s at the point where he can admit to himself that hope is running out. Those words make him sick to his stomach. He’s only human. God _dammit_ , he’s only human, and he needs to be more. For Steve, if not for himself.

Zola grumbles. “Yes, but it must be done properly. He has to have the right push over the edge. Break him, but let him come to us on his own terms.”

What the fuck does that even mean? They have to know he’ll never do that; he might be human, but he’ll die a man and not a monster. They can’t take his humanity no matter how much they torture him.

“Hmm. It is such a shame that Erskine died before he could successfully make more. But I may just have the solution for you anyway. Find one of the articles.”

“ _Oh_. Oh, yes. That may be just the thing.” Zola’s voice is sly and creepy. Bucky knows that’s not good news. He has no idea what any of this means, but he’s positive of that much.

The men enter the room and Bucky flinches. He focuses on the mating bite, right there on his neck. _Remember yourself. Remember Steve. That’s all that matters._

They hook him up to the crude device. He knows this particular thing by now, the pain almost a comfort in its familiarity. It’ll hurt, but he’ll survive it.

 _Think of Steve_ . Out there looking. When Bucky’s body doesn’t show up, Steve will move heaven and earth to rescue him again. He’s probably out looking right now. _Just think of Steve._

 

_“Did you really think I wasn’t gonna come back to you?”_

_“Buck, goodness. I’m exhausted. We just fucked for three days straight. Can’t we have this conversation another time?”_ Steve had smiled tiredly at him to take the sting out of his words.

_“No, we need to have it now. You came for me, Steve. I would never have left you behind, either, and you know it.”_

Steve stared at him like he was an angel come to earth, and Bucky shivered. _“I do know. I’m glad it was you, Bucky. I don’t think I would’ve given in to someone else. It’s always been you.”_

 _“I’m not an angel, Steve,”_ he’d whispered.

 _“I know that, too. But you’re_ **_my_ ** _angel, and that’s all that matters.”_

 

Zola leaves the room while the doctor finishes the setup. He smiles at Bucky again, the same way he did after surgery. The same way he does every time he sees him. It gives Bucky the creeps. The guy probably smiles like that at his own family, it looks so disturbingly… _normal._

Disgusted at the thought and missing Steve like his own arm, missing Steve like an ache, not just on his neck but in his bones, he spits at the man. He knows better, but they haven’t broken him. Not yet. He wants them to know it, too.

His stomach sinks as the man merely continues smiling.

“Sergeant Barnes! I hope your day is well!” The doctor says it as though he were talking to his neighbor or his friend.

“Fuck you, buddy,” he grits out through his teeth.

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that. But you couldn’t either, since we’ve given you the hormone supplements. Can’t have a wild alpha rutting around out there, can we? How can you properly worship your masters that way, hmm? Of course it doesn’t mean someone else wouldn’t be up for fucking you.”

With another shudder Bucky realizes the man is telling the truth- on all counts. Zola is perverted in any number of ways, and who knows what he has in store for Bucky? And he hasn’t gotten hard in several months. He had figured that’s because of the whole torture thing, but he’s got confirmation now of what is, in hindsight, obvious. He tries to hide his shock and disgust, but the doctor sees right through him. Bucky makes a valiant effort to glare; it’s not easy, because torture makes people tired, and that right there’s a realization no one should ever have to have.

Then Zola marches back in holding a piece of newspaper and looking mighty goddamn pleased with himself. In only a few moments, Bucky realizes why as Zola holds up the paper. The date is April 1945, and the headline is devastating in its simplicity.

 _Captain America confirmed dead in Arctic crash_.

And the funniest thing about it: his first thought is _goddamn punk_.

Then the world drops from underneath him; gravity swallows him whole. Steve’s not coming. Steve will never be with him again, even if by some miracle he manages to get out of this shithole. The end of the line came and went, and he hadn’t been there for his guy. For his mate. For his everything.

Zola smirks as the doctor powers up the machine, preparing to dial in the electricity. “I can tell by the look on your face that you’ll be ready to give up soon. I look forward to it.” In response, Bucky turns his head to look at the ceiling, wincing without meaning to. It’s the end for him, and he knows it, but still. Steve Rogers never went down without a fight, and neither will Bucky Barnes.

Zola pulls out a whip, holding it over Bucky’s naked flesh in the chair. He meets the doctor’s eyes and they nod in agreement.

All at once, the pain hits him from two directions.

“Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557038.”

Another lash to the chest. Blood wells up. Another shock, too. But he’s not giving them anything. That’s who he is, right? Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, proud member of the US Army, the 107th, the Howling Commandos.

And mate of Steve Rogers. Who is gone for good.

“Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557… 7…”

Another shock, higher voltage, and this time, he screams.

“Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32… 4… 55…”

It’s running dry, his will. The will to fight, the will to _live_ is slowly seeping out of the wound in his chest, which Zola doesn’t shy away from compounding. But Bucky can’t feel it. The shock of Steve’s death combined with what his body is going through is too much now. He’s numb. Like the killer they’re trying- and succeeding- to make him into.

“Barnes. My name is Bucky. James. Barnes.”

_Remember him. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Silly crazy sexy uniform. Muscles or tiny, bony frame, no matter. Steve. Remember Steve._

Tears roll down his cheeks. He tries to stop them, but they keep coming, more and harder and pulling big, ugly sobs from his chest. He’s breaking. They’ve finally done it. After six months of torture, all it takes is knowing that Steve is dead.

“Steve…”

Maybe there’s one thing he can do before he gives in, before he gets onto his knees and promises to obey. Maybe he can lock the memories in the back of his mind somewhere- memories of him and Steve out dancing, of him taking care of Steve when he was sick, of making love to him.

Of standing in the store with the perfect collar, leather as smooth and gentle in his hands as it would be around Steve’s neck.

 

_“Well, young gentleman, this is perfect! And discounted for Army personnel. During a war, it’s of the utmost importance to collar your omega, isn’t it? You’ll want her to be taken care of in the event of your untimely death, surely.”_

_“Uh… yes, sir.”_

_“Good, good! I’ll wrap this, shall I?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Excellent! Now, if I may ask, who is the lucky dame to whom this will soon belong?”_

_“Oh, it’s, uh. Ste… Stephanie. Yeah, Stephanie.”_

_“Well, that’s a beautiful name. Thank you so much for your business, and God bless.”_

 

Does he have the strength to lock the memories away fully, to keep these assholes out for good? Only time will tell. It’ll mean Steve is unreachable to his own mind, but at least they won’t be able to reach him, either. Or what’s left of him, at least. Small comfort, that, but it’s something.

He gives in, yells at them to stop this, that he belongs to them. He’ll be their Fist. But of course they don’t stop, and he realizes with a sickening feeling that being broken is only the beginning.

Turns out, they _can_ take his humanity.

And they will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. :(


	12. April 2014: Steve

This is impossible. There is absolutely no way in any universe that Bucky could have survived that fall, let alone could be the one standing in front of him. And under nearly any other circumstance he’d be ecstatic that he was lucky enough to see his alpha again, but this?

This is what heartbreak feels like. He thought he’d known before, but he’d been grossly mistaken.

Bad enough that he lost Bucky once, but at least in his heart he could tell himself that Bucky was finally free of pain and no longer suffering. He’d been relieved, if not exactly happy, to join him in that place of peace once upon a time. Knowing now that Bucky did survive and… and had all those things done to him, things that Steve refuses to look in the face… well. It was his fault that Bucky fell to begin with. And now it’s his fault, because he gave up and left the man he loved in HYDRA’s hands.

It’s his fault, that’s what the thing is.

“Bucky. Bucky, you know me. I’m your omega, your Stevie.”

And there is not a single shred of recognition in those haunted grey eyes. Only pain, anger, and murder. Steve’s heart drops through the floor.

The person that was once James Buchanan Barnes attacks, throws the shield right back at Steve. He ducks and then grabs the shield from the car it sticks into, but has no time to counterattack because the Soldier is on him, snarling. With Steve’s superhuman hearing, he can tell the thumping of Bucky’s heart is slow, not labored at all despite the fact that he’s bearing down on Steve and grabbing him in a chokehold. His breathing is regular. He’s not sweating from exertion. It’s like a lazy walk in the park for the Soldier. And Steve’s breathing is ragged, terrified and heartbroken and exhausted all at once. He feels like he’s going to die here, figuratively and possibly literally as well. Whatever drugs or serum the Soldier had been given, they made him stronger, better than Steve.

As the Soldier’s hands, one metal and one flesh, close around his neck in a gross parody of what they once did in the name of love, Steve realizes that Natasha and Sam are his only hope. He fights back, elbowing Bucky and twisting in an attempt to break free from his grasp, but it won’t be enough. He can hold out a little longer than anyone else, but even he has limits.

Just as the world begins to grey around the edges, he catches sight of Sam’s shadowy form, wings spread and gliding carefully towards them, and he tries to relax, tries to pretend like nothing is happening. The Soldier, predictably, turns around just before Sam lands on his back. Steve knows he pretended, too.

Fortunately, the Soldier lets Steve go to throw Sam across the street; Sam crumples to the ground in a heap. Sam’s no super soldier, not like him or Bucky, and he’ll need medical attention. He’s definitely out of the fight. Which means Steve has a decision to make and nowhere near enough time to make it.

He can fight back and hope Natasha gets here in time to help him take down the Soldier. It also means he has to hope that they can take him down without killing him, because it’s clear this Bucky-but-not-Bucky isn’t going down easy. Either that, or they can scram, get away from the Soldier to regroup. But that means his handlers will take him back to wherever their base is. And there will likely be horrible consequences for Bucky if that happens.

Nothing good can come from this. His heart hurts… and so does that spot at the corner of his neck and shoulder where Bucky had once marked him as his, forever and always. He’d finally gotten to the point where he could ignore the mark, but now it’ll never go away. Not now that Bucky’s alive.

In the end, Natasha makes the decision for him.

Just as the Soldier turns back to him, her throwing knife hits him square in the shoulder. He doesn’t even scream, doesn’t do anything to suggest he feels it other than turning in the direction the knife came from. Natasha’s a step ahead of him, though; she comes at him from the other side, face determined in a way Steve’s never seen before. She recognizes, probably better than he does, how dangerous the Winter Soldier is. Even if his approximation of the danger is correct, though, he’s compromised. The very definition of it, in fact.

Her kick knocks Bucky back a few feet, and her follow-up blow stuns him just long enough for her to grab Steve by the arm and shove him away.

“Run!”

Despite himself, Steve doesn’t hesitate. There is nothing he can do for Bucky right now. But he’ll be damned if he lets his alpha, his best friend, and the love of his life stay with those torturers anymore. He’ll find a way.

 

Nat’s doing a crossword in Steve’s apartment at Stark Tower, but Steve knows her well. She wants to say something, and Steve’s not gonna like it.

He sighs. “What?”

She looks up, face expressionless in a way only Nat can pull off. “You should know, Steve.”

“Maybe I don’t know. Fill me in.”

She gives an exasperated huff. The pencil drops to the table. He’s got her full attention. “There is no way this ends well.”

Predictably, Steve bristles. “I’m not going to give up.”

“You don’t have to give up. They’ll send him after you again. I guarantee you that.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“All I’m saying is, wait for him to come to you. I’ll be with you, and Sam and Clint are on alert…”

“Of course.”

“... and expect me to use deadly force to subdue him if I need to.”

Steve’s face hardens in the expression Bucky would’ve called _not this stubborn bullshit again_. “No, you won’t.”

“He’s dangerous, Steve!” Her voice has risen. Steve knows it’s serious when Natasha shows emotion.

 

_“He’s dangerous, Steve! I can’t protect you all the time, you know that!”_

_“I can do this-”_

_“-all day? Yeah, or until you get knocked out or into a grave. God, you’re a fuckin’ idiot sometimes, Steven.”_

_“I can’t just stand by and let him treat that little boy that way.”_

_“Yeah, but your best buddy Bucky Barnes ain’t gonna stand by and let you get yourself killed, either, Steve.” Bucky stands ready to stop him._

_“Guess you’ll have to stop me with your own fists, Buck, because I can’t let you do that.”_

 

“I can’t let you do that.” Steve’s voice softens and he sits in the chair next to her. “He’ll come back. I promise he will.”

“Steve. You can’t promise something like that. I know you want to, hon, I know.” Nat reaches out to cup his cheek. “But you don’t understand. You _can’t_ . You haven’t lived it, Steve. I have. And he’s been there longer than I could ever imagine. I _barely_ came back.”

Steve’s jaw is set, because he’s Steve Rogers. Natasha knows this side of him to some extent, but she hadn’t been there back in the ‘30s and ‘40s with him and Bucky. His alpha is probably the only person alive who appreciates the stubbornness of Steve Rogers.

 _Alive._ Steve savors the taste of that word on the tip of his tongue.

Natasha takes her hand away from his cheek and gives him a considering look. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t put yourself at risk needlessly. If you want to save him, well… maybe. I will save you if I have to, by whatever means necessary, but I can’t stop you from being who and what you are. And I wouldn’t want to. I care about you. A lot.”

Steve gives her a small smile. “Thanks, Nat. We’re gonna save him. Trust me. We can save him. We have to.”

They turn on a movie and relax for the rest of the evening. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Steve only hopes that it eases the ache in his heart, whatever it is.

Or at least brings Bucky peace. At least that.


	13. December 2014: Bucky

It’s been nearly half a year since Asset-Soldier-Bucky broke protocol. Half a year since he failed his mission. Half a year since he disobeyed the order, his last order, to self-terminate. 

Asset-Soldier-Bucky finally understands why. 

He’s been following Captain-Steve for four months, even as Steve has been searching for him. Steve, he now remembers, was always the upfront, unsubtle type. He’s damn good at running into a fight and kicking ass, but Asset-Soldier-Bucky is an assassin, possibly the best the world’s ever seen. He can track Captain-Steve much easier than Captain-Steve can track him. 

He’s known since the bridge that something is different about Captain-Steve. The faint scent that surrounded Captain-Steve was intoxicating. He hadn’t been sure what that meant, at least not until now. 

The last of the anti-mating drugs left Asset-Soldier-Bucky’s system last week. With it went the last vestiges of his mission. He no longer has an urge to kill Captain-Steve. All that’s left is the urge to kiss him. 

Because Captain-Steve turned into Stevie. 

Steve Rogers.

_ His _ Steve.

His  _ omega _ .

Now it’s time to come home. Only how can he do that? It’s impossible to imagine, because the thing is, he remembers. All of it: good, bad, and horrific- and there’s been far more of the last one than anything else.  He knows what he’s done, and there’s no changing it. 

Despite the shame and guilt, he doesn’t hate himself anymore, or at least he thinks he doesn’t. But while Captain-Steve is now Steve Rogers, the same old punk kid who’d gotten himself into trouble constantly and submitted so surprisingly, so wonderfully to his alpha once upon a time, Bucky Barnes is dead. There is only Asset-Soldier-Bucky, some hybrid of what he once was and what he is now that Steve will never be able to accept. 

He can’t bear to imagine it, because Asset-Soldier-Bucky has killed too many people, committed too many atrocities to be forgiven. He is what he is, but it’s not good enough for Steve. Asset-Soldier-Bucky may not know much, but he knows that is true. Hell, it always felt true.

Still. Even though the constant supply of anti-mating drugs throughout the last seventy years had cut off his connection to his omega, the bite still tingles when he thinks of Steve. Asset-Soldier-Bucky knows that once-treasured bond is why he couldn’t bear to kill Captain America on the helicarrier, despite his programming. For the first time in his life, failing a mission was what he was  _ supposed  _ to do. The bond broke the programming. 

He can’t bring himself to tell Steve how badly he longs for him. He can’t tell him that he wants the bond again, that he wants nothing more than to be his alpha, his protector and lover and his  _ everything  _ once more. But maybe Asset-Soldier-Bucky can thank him for breaking his programming. At least he can do that, right? 

 

He watches through the scope as Steve picks up the note, Asset-Soldier-Bucky’s version of a love letter. It’s as straightforward as any letter from an assassin can be. 

_ I remember. Thank you. _

He watches, comfortable from his perch on the roof of the adjacent building, as Steve’s eyes go comically wide. Steve whips his head around like a wild animal sensing danger, only Asset-Soldier-Bucky recognizes that Steve’s sense of self-preservation is just as bad as ever. No, it’s not danger that has Steve in a tizzy, even though Asset-Soldier-Bucky can kill him with just a little bit of pressure on the trigger of his rifle. It could be over quick as lightning. It almost makes him laugh.

_ Fucking Steve, _ he thinks fondly.

Steve is on the verge of panicking. Asset-Soldier-Bucky can’t help but grin; Steve’s reacting the exact way Asset-Soldier-Bucky predicted he would. It’s a grin of fondness, but also one of triumph. His memories of those years before the torture, before HYDRA, are true. This is confirmation that HYDRA could take his humanity, but couldn’t take this away from him. Another man might whoop with joy. Asset-Soldier-Bucky’s grin is subtle, but it contains every ounce of joy he has left in his body.

He stares through the scope as Steve picks up the phone. His lip reading skills have always been sharp, so he knows Steve is talking to Natasha. He assumes she is Natalia Romanova, alias Black Widow, seventeen verified assassinations and five additional assumed. Natalia is dangerous, likely far more so than Steve realizes, yet he speaks to her as though they are old friends. Asset-Soldier-Bucky feels a stab of jealousy at that, but it doesn’t come close to rebooting his programming.

For one thing, Steve Rogers is his omega. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to come between an alpha and his omega.

For another, he could take out Romanova as easily as swatting a fly. Romanova’s good, but no one can touch the Winter Soldier. 

_ No one _ .

Steve has gotten off the phone and is pacing the apartment. He’s no longer whipping his head around uselessly, but he still paces like a caged animal. It’s a cage of his own making, Asset-Soldier-Bucky knows; Steve will feel guilty for letting Asset-Soldier-Bucky fall from the train. It’s sick, for Steve isn’t the one that needs forgiveness.

The pain in Steve’s face tugs at his heart. Maybe the ‘thank you’ isn’t enough. Maybe Steve needs to hear that it wasn’t his fault, none of it. Maybe then he can find some peace.

It takes five hours of serious soul-searching before Asset-Soldier-Bucky works himself up to saying it, even if it’s just for Steve’s sake. It  _ is _ just for Steve’s sake, because there’s no way Steve can ever forgive him or accept him for what he is. Or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself. The pain of rejection would be too much. He can’t let himself hope. He can’t.

The former Winter Soldier, now known to himself only as Asset-Soldier-Bucky, a name which makes no sense but is the only thing that fits his twisted essence anymore, knocks on the door. He knows Steve has seen him through the keyhole; Asset-Soldier-Bucky can hear the shallow, nervous breaths and pounding heart on the other side of the door. He figures, idly, that the serum has at least changed him for the better in some ways. At least there’s that.

Steve finally opens the door and gulps air like he’s suffocating, even though he hasn’t had asthma in over seventy years, and even though he knows full well who’s waiting for him out here in the hall of this dingy apartment building. Like they aren’t playing some sordid courting game: sight and sound have nothing on scent, and a man knows his partner. Seventy years of separation and brainwashing can’t hide that. 

“Buck?”

Asset-Soldier-Bucky snorts and says nothing. _ Obviously, Steve.  _

“Um, please… please, come in.”

“Actually.” Asset-Soldier-Bucky clears his throat; he isn’t used to speaking at all. “I can’t stay. I just came to…”

Steve looks like he wants to hug him, kiss him, and touch him all over and never let go. Even though Asset-Soldier-Bucky longs for the same, it puts him on edge. 

“No, please, Buck. Just… come in. Just for a little while. Please?”

Steve’s giving him that wide-eyed stare that stole his heart back in ‘36, the year he caught the kid getting beaten up by Jonny Wilson’s shithead little brother in the alley behind the Barnes residence. He could never say no to those eyes. 

“Stevie,” he says softly, and he didn’t think it was possible, but Steve’s eyes widen even more. 

“Please,” Steve replies plaintively. “I need you, Buck. I need my alpha.”

_ God, this is stupid, Barnes. Stupid to walk into that cage. Stupid to hold back. All of it, just fucking stupid. _ He swallows stale air and tries to hold down the nausea. It’s Stevie. His omega. He can come in for a few minutes at least, right? For Steve? This is all for Steve anyway. Right?

“I know. I need you too, Steve.”

That isn’t what he meant to say.  _ Okay, but just for a few minutes _ , would’ve been fine.  _ Let’s talk for a few minutes, that sounds good. I have to go soon, though. Let’s take it slow. _ Any of that would’ve been just what the doctor ordered, as far as Asset-Soldier-Bucky is concerned. But it isn’t what came out of his mouth, is it?

Steve’s face lights up with this paradoxical hopeful sadness like he can’t believe what he just heard, like he never expected him to say that, either. Asset-Soldier-Bucky immediately feels like kicking himself. Stupid, too, to give Steve hope like that. 

“Come in,” Steve murmurs to him. He follows like he can’t help himself, and maybe he can’t. 

Steve’s apartment fits him perfectly. The carpet is a light beige and clean as a whistle. His couch is light brown. The kitchen counter is bare save a lonely coffee pot, which calls to mind the burnt stuff the Army doled out during the war that tasted like fried mud. There are no stains anywhere. The place screams Steve Rogers. It looks like home… and it looks like a cage, too. He’s afraid, but the omega’s intoxicating scent calms him.

Asset-Soldier-Bucky nearly stumbles once he crosses the threshold. The cleanliness isn’t just keeping up appearances. It smells like Stevie always has, only more overwhelming than it’s ever been. It seems insane to him, because even on the battlefield, sweat-soaked and dirt-streaked and grimy, his omega smelled pure. Like no filth could ever contaminate him.

Well, unless you count Steve Rogers on his knees and begging to be throat-fucked filthy, at least.

The thought is so absurd in context that Asset-Soldier-Bucky barks a laugh, short and loud in the enclosed space. Steve glances back, face amused and questioning, and that’s it- he’s laughing. The real, genuine article, a sound he hasn’t made since the inn the same morning he fell from the train. He remembers the place so well, the happiness he felt holding Steve in his arms. 

Before long, the laugh turns hysterical, and Steve can’t help but laugh along with him, at least until Asset-Soldier-Bucky’s laughter gains a pained edge and falls over the proverbial cliff sharply into tears. Then it’s Steve’s turn to hold him close. 

_ Oh, how time changes things. _

Steve pulls him to the couch and wraps his legs and arms around Asset-Soldier-Bucky’s body like an octopus, like he’s afraid his alpha is going to suddenly spook and run away. It’s true that anyone else would be dead before they could even consider what Rogers is doing, but one thing is true and has always been: Steve Rogers is his omega. Even before the serum, before his body could handle going through heat, they belonged together. Asset-Soldier-Bucky is utterly incapable of hurting him or even leaving now that the heavenly scent of Steve fills his nostrils. 

He cries while Steve cradles his head against his chest. He mourns the people he’s killed, the dignitaries, ambassadors, presidents, and kings. He mourns their spouses and their children, casualties of wars they had no place in, the deaths that were necessary to successfully complete the mission. The deaths he had no emotional reaction to whatsoever as the Soldier. But he is Asset-Soldier-Bucky now, and he is safe in his omega’s arms again. It’s time to let go of the past- all of it. It’s finally okay to mourn. It’s finally okay to acknowledge his humanity and what was lost.

After he’s run through the list of names and the faces that have haunted his dreams ever since he broke his programming, he is exhausted. There will be time to mourn his own lost years later. As Asset-Soldier-Bucky falls asleep on Steve’s chest, his last thought is that maybe Steve won’t be able to forgive him, but there’s no reason not to be a better man. And then maybe he doesn’t have to be Asset-Soldier-Bucky anymore.

Maybe he can just be Bucky.


	14. July 2020: Steve & Bucky

“Breathe, Steve. Just breathe.”

Natasha gives him an intense look. The depth of emotion in her eyes is unfamiliar and her smile is full and delighted. It’s one of the most genuine moments he’s ever had with her. But it doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s having an asthma attack, even though it’s been three quarters of a century since he’s had one.

“I am breathing,” he tells her petulantly. 

“Barely, though.”

Now the smile is an outright grin, and he can’t help but respond with an upward tilt of his own lips.

Still, this is crazy. When he’d put that plane down in the ice, he’d surrendered any hope of being together with Bucky again. He’d thought Bucky was dead, and he’d been prepared to die, too. Then, by some miracle of fate, they’d both survived, each with his own scars to bear. His aren’t quite as bad as Bucky’s, and for that, he’ll always feel guilty… but after years of therapy, Steve recognizes that they do exist. 

And finally, Bucky is working through his own. 

It hasn’t been easy these last five years. After that first night, Bucky’d nearly run away. He’d never made it out the door, though, thank goodness. One night, Bucky had explained it to him. He described Steve as a drug and himself as an addict. Once upon a time, such a comparison might have made Steve uncomfortable, but that’s not the case now. If being Bucky’s addiction is what it takes to heal him, Steve will wear the label proudly and not give a fuck about what anyone else thinks. Including his therapist, who was quick to express her displeasure with such a metaphor.

He chuckles lightly, remembering that particular session. She’s a wonderful woman and has been instrumental in helping him through his own problems, but sometimes, she can be far off the mark. This was one of those times. He remembers her drab brown office that smelled so inexplicably like Krispy Kreme donuts that day, despite the unfortunate lack of said donuts. He’d smiled at her, thanked her, and walked out the door. Nothing could have stopped his smile that day. 

That was when he realized Bucky wasn’t going anywhere. That was when he realized they could finally be together in the way they’d always meant to be- as a bonded alpha and omega.

And that night had been the best of his life. Bucky had bitten him until blood was pouring from his shoulder.  _ Never again _ , he’d said.  _ Never again will you be taken from me. I swear it, Steve.  _

He realizes Natasha is staring at him with that wild grin still, and he blushes bright red. The things that happened that night… well, he probably shouldn’t be thinking about them around Natasha. Or anyone else, for that matter.

He clears his throat. “Yeah, so. I’m nervous. Wouldn’t you be nervous, Nat?”

“If I were the type to publicly announce a bond or marriage, I might understand the question.”

“You assassins are so weird, I swear.”

“That’s rich coming from the strangest person I’ve ever met. Who is bonded to an assassin, I might add.”

“Hey!” he complains. “I grew up a long time ago. Things were different then.”

“They sure were. Now no one will judge you for hitching up with another man even though you’re an alpha/omega pair. I  _ was _ curious about a few things, though…”

Steve groans. “I’m a pretty private person, Nat.”

“I know, I know! But I’m your second favorite assassin, right? Surely you can answer  _ one _ of the two questions…”

He laughs. “Trying to bargain? We’ll see. Go ahead and ask.”

It’s her turn to clear her throat. “Well… are you going to take any supplements? Stop it completely, maybe? They can do that now, you know. You’d never have to worry about going into heat again.”

He blushes again, damn his Irish skin. “Yes, I know. Next question.”

She pouts. “Does that mean you’re not going to answer?”

“Next. Question.”

“Oh, alright, fine. Do you know which you’ll pick today? You know he’ll offer you both.”

Steve’s face softens. “Of course I know. But you’ll have to find out in a few hours.”

She shakes her head and walks back towards the Barnes ‘section’ of the party. “You just told me everything without even saying it. I’m not dumb, Steve.”

Steve laughs. “You sure about that?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy.

 

***

 

This fidgeting is irritating, Bucky reflects, as he continues socializing with the guests. He and Steve are in separate rooms of the tower, not allowed to see each other until the ceremony because of some silly tradition Steve wants to observe. Which, okay, it’s a little romantic, but man would it be nice to know whether or not Steve’s feeling the same way. Not seeing him has Bucky on edge. And really, why wouldn’t it? Steve’s his omega and they’ve been kept apart long enough. Today’s silly little tradition marks the last of it, he swears to himself.

But maybe he’s the one being silly here. Maybe it will make the ceremony that much more exciting. 

He’s mid-conversation with Clint when Nat approaches the two of them, and her distinctly smug look is enough to make Bucky nervous all over again. Clint, catching the mood, begs off so that it’s just the two of them staring each other down.

“Widow,” Bucky says formally.

“Soldier.”

Then they grin at each other. 

“So how’s Stevie doing? He hangin’ in there? Are you watching over him?”

“Whoa, Barnes, slow down. Steve’s fine, but I’m not so sure about you.”

She pokes him in the rib. Even after years of tamping down the Soldier’s reflexes, only a handful of people could get away with such an action. That he’s willing to let her do it tells him a lot about himself. It’s yet another victory against HYDRA and all that they failed to do. That thought, of course, only makes his grin widen.

“My darling,” he starts, taking her hand and bowing like a gentleman of old, “I am the Winter Soldier. There’s no universe in which I’m not fine.” He finishes his bow, but continues to hold her hand.

“Except one without Steve in it,” she says softly, squeezing his hand.

He doesn’t bother denying it. “Yes. Except that.”

“The world’s changed, you know.” 

Bucky rolls with the topic change, easy as you please. “Duh?”

She rolls her eyes. “I mean you don’t have to offer it to him if you don’t want to.”

He looks at her like she’s grown another head. “Why on earth wouldn’t I want to?”

Natasha smirks. “Good. You passed the test.” 

Bucky releases her hand and throws up both of his. “Well, I’m so happy I meet your requirements, oh dear Black Widow mine.”

“You’re not the only one looking out for Steve, James.”

“We both know what he wants. I want it, too, and I don’t care if it’s old fashioned. I’d never abuse him or deny him any rights. It’s not like it was back then, you’re right. But that means jack and shit to me or Steve. We were never like that to begin with. You know that.”

“Of course I do.”

“... you think the rest of the world will look down on him.” It’s not a question.

“It’s old fashioned, which isn’t bad in itself, but James-  _ Soldat _ \- you know you’re going to get flak for the symbolism. Even if you’re not abusive, some people will still see you like that.”

Bucky’s chin juts out; he can be as stubborn as Steve when he wants to be. “People will always see whatever they damn well care to, and besides that, I don’t care, Natasha. It’s the right thing for us, and that’s all that matters.”

“I agree. But just be prepared, okay? Steve’s gonna pretend like it doesn’t bother him, but we both know better. Just take care of him.”

“If someone ever hurts Steve-.”

“... and not like that!”

Bucky sulks. “Fine. I won’t kill anybody.”

“Just… be a normal amount of protective, okay?”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

Natasha shakes her head fondly and slithers away. 

 

When Steve enters the long hall on the seventeenth floor of Stark Tower, he looks like an angel. In fact, Bucky’s not sure he isn’t. The light streaming in through the window makes him seem immaculate in his light grey tux. The golden blonde hair Bucky’s always loved running his fingers through is almost too bright to look at. And when those stark blue eyes meet his own from across the room, his knees nearly buckle. 

God, Steve is absolutely gorgeous. 

And absolutely  _ his _ . 

They stare at each other like no one else exists in the world. For them, in that moment, no one does. 

The ceremony is much like that of any other couple, except for one thing. Steve has a choice to make, though it is no secret between the two of them (and Nat) what his choice will be. Bucky is nervous nonetheless. He’s prepared for both outcomes, and either is fine by him. At the end of the day, he has his Stevie, the thing he never thought he’d have, and that is a miracle in itself. Neither a ring of gold nor a ring of leather will change what they have.

The old assumption that an omega is made to be submissive to his or her alpha no longer has merit; there are many couples for whom the omega leads the relationship. Some adopt out their children, preferring to work and avoid raising them. Some remain on hormone suppressants for their entire lives. Self-determination is finally allowed for them, and modern medicine together with modern culture makes sure they can have it. Bucky’s in full support of that, too. 

But he  _ wants _ , oh how he wants. Not to stifle Steve, never that. Not to bend him to his will. Rather the opposite: he wants to protect Steve and raise him up to be the best version of himself that he can be. The symbolism of the collar isn’t necessary, but he wants it there. Good thing is, he’s pretty sure Steve does, too.

Throughout the ceremony, Bucky can’t stop staring. Soon, the world will know the devotion of the Winter Soldier to Captain America and vice versa, and all anyone has to do to believe it is watch the video that is currently streaming live throughout the world. He knows how damn  _ gone _ he looks.

Finally, it’s time for the moment of truth. Half the world is probably wondering what will happen now; the rest likely assume Steve will accept the ring. There’s no way Captain America will admit to submitting to his alpha- not in  _ that _ manner. 

Funny how what was once proper is now considered inappropriate. To hell with it, though. All that matters is that it’s what Steve wants.

Bucky swallows heavily. He closes his eyes for a moment to center himself and then opens them. Steve’s baby blues look directly at him, into him, so loving and trusting it makes his heart ache. He decides to say screw the rest of the world and what they might think. It’s time to claim Steve in the only way there is left. That thing he’s been waiting to do since 1945. 

“I don’t know that I can ever offer you enough, Steven Grant Rogers, but I know this much: I love you, and you belong to me, one way or the other. Will you do me the honor of wearing my collar?”

A collective gasp meets his question, and the two of them share a grin. Clearly, this was even more unexpected than they’d thought it would be. 

The return grin answers it, but Steve clearly still feels the need to say it for the world to hear. 

“Yes, James Buchanan Barnes. I will accept your collar and wear it proudly, for I am yours forever, just as you are mine.”

Bucky pulls the collar from its resting place on the dais next to him, and Steve gasps. 

“You found it!” He goes for  _ sotto voce _ , but there’s no doubt the entire place can hear him in the tense silence. 

“‘Course I did. I saved up nearly a month’s worth of pay back in ‘42, back when you had all those commissions, you remember? We had some extra money. So…”

“Damn. I wondered.”

“Yeah. Wait, how did you even know about-”

A politely cleared throat interrupts their conversation. “Gentlemen, if you don’t mind?”

They share another grin, but this one turns to something else: soft smiles with heat boiling just under the surface. On top of all of it is the love and hope they never thought they’d find again. It fills Bucky with so much joy he thinks he’ll explode into a ray of light right here in the tower.

Steve flushes a bright red as he kneels in front of Bucky and the gathered crowd. The people watching at home are just hypothetical at this point, but his friends are not. The Avengers know now- some of the betas among them didn’t even know Steve’s an omega, let alone that he’d already submitted to Bucky in that manner. That he lets himself go, that he allows his carefully protected control to fly away in the breeze so that Bucky can take care of him. Some of them might even be prejudiced in a way that only betas can be. But whatever people think of the situation, everybody knows now, and Bucky beams at him with pride, to be so brave as to admit it to the world.

As if people watching couldn’t tell how much love they have for each other.

He locks the collar in place with a soft  _ clink _ . It’s a moment seventy-five years in the making, and it’s the best moment of James Barnes’ entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost over! Last chapter should be up within this next week. It's gonna be a pretty happy ending, folks... and by happy, I mean smutty...


	15. December 2020: Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve enjoy each other the way they were always meant to.

Every day. 

Every single day, Steve is more beautiful than the last. It should be impossible, but somehow it’s not.

Bucky watches Steve’s muscles ripple and flex as the mating hormones flow through him. He turns around to put his physique on display for his alpha, so much love and oh- oh,  _ that, _ that is  _ unbelievable _ \- in his eyes. They’re still bright blue, but won’t be for long. His pupils have been slowly dilating for awhile now. Bucky licks his lips in anticipation..

The first wave had nearly knocked Steve out when it hit mid-mission, but it’s nothing like the first time or even the second time he’d gone into heat. He has a mate now, and that’s a whole other thing. Fortunately, his physiology recognizes that he has a committed alpha and doesn’t let him get caught out in the open. Bucky was able to get Steve to safety before he could get hurt. After that, finishing off the  _ assholes du jour _ was easy: knowing how vulnerable Steve was only made him fight all the harder. He’d nearly growled at anyone who came near on the flight back to the tower, and probably would’ve killed anyone who’d actually touched Steve. Especially Stark, the only other alpha on the team, had he so much as thought of challenging Bucky.

Now, though, Steve’s leading him to their shared bedroom at the tower- no time to go home- and it’s  _ glorious _ . Steve looks like an angel with hair of spun sunlight, and smells even better. The best thing, though, is that he has the presence of mind this time around to actually seduce his alpha. It makes Bucky want to claim him more than ever before, which is yet another impossibility.

Steve finishes removing his clothes and lies back on the bed with the most intense expression Bucky thinks he’s ever seen. 

_ What on earth did I do to deserve this? _ Bucky wonders, and pounces.

He puts a leg between Steve’s thighs, forcing them to open wide, and kisses him to within an inch of his life. Steve comes as though Bucky had commanded it, and just the thought of that makes his already hard cock strain painfully against his underwear. Somehow, he manages to get it freed from the confines of the Soldier’s uniform while never letting his lips leave Steve’s. 

Steve thrusts upwards and comes all over Bucky’s dirty uniform and it occurs to him, too late, that maybe they should’ve washed up before doing this. That might’ve been impossible, though, with Steve smelling like life and light and the sun itself and  _ Steve _ and pure, utter  _ sex _ .

Yeah, no. There’s no way in hell he could’ve resisted even if Steve had wanted him to. Not here, behind closed doors. Hell, if Steve had asked for it, he’d have given it to Captain America right there on the damn battlefield in front of the entirety of Chicago. That image makes him huff a laugh right into Steve’s mouth. 

Steve pulls back with a grin. “What’s so funny, Buck?”

Bucky glares at him as though affronted by the interruption. “Why, my sexy little omega, none of your concern. You just lie here and be pretty, you hear now?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Drama queen-” 

It’s cut off as Bucky bites his neck, hard. He lets out a rather undignified squeak as Bucky pins him with all four limbs. Steve’s eyes roll back into his head at the display of dominance. Bucky keeps his mouth on Steve; the bite will leave a mark that will still be visible tomorrow, though within three days it’ll be long gone. He figures that just means he’d better do it over and over. He wants the world to know Steve belongs to him.

As though the collar didn’t already make that clear enough. 

But no, it can never be enough for him, can it? Seventy years they’d been apart, and he could spend the rest of his life within and beside Steve and it’d never be enough. 

“Fuck me, Bucky, please.” Steve can hardly breathe at this point, and Bucky marvels at how _ wrecked _ he looks, how wrecked he clearly is inside. Bucky’s not showing it like Steve is, but his own need is just as strong. 

“You want it like this, Stevie? Bone dry? Come on now, be a little bit patient.”

Steve, shockingly, bares his teeth. “I don’t care,” he grinds out- literally, as he comes against Bucky’s stomach again. 

“You will when I put it inside you and you scream and beg.”

“I’m gonna scream and beg anyway.”

“... point taken.”

Bucky scoops up a bit of the come on Steve’s belly, slicks himself up, and pushes into him. As predicted, his omega arches up and lets out a cry more suited to the battlefield than the bedroom. Jarvis might have been alarmed had Tony not been wise enough to issue a warning, a fact for which Bucky is extremely thankful. 

Steve is panting and begging senselessly, come streaking both of their bodies again. The clenching around Bucky’s dick is enough for him to go off as well, shooting inside Steve for the first time in what will be a long, glorious three days. 

They lie panting together in the cool air of Stark Tower, grinning like idiots at the fact that they can finally do this again after so long. Not just fuck like bunnies, but  _ mate _ . It gives Bucky a thrill that runs down his spine and makes him rock hard again within seconds.

“So, Steve,” he begins, breathless like he’s just run across wintry Siberia, “you’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you?”

“What are you talking about, Buck?” Steve looks like he has no idea what Bucky’s thinking, but the glint in his eyes gives him away. They’re wide and approaching fully blown. 

Bucky just stares at him, waiting expectantly. This is the part where Steve usually loses it, even some nights without the hormones driving him crazy.

Indeed, Steve swallows audibly after a moment, and his eyes close like he’s trying to get ahold of himself. “Yes. Yes, I’m gonna be good.” He sounds a bit like he would if a HYDRA agent had caught him and put a knife to his throat… or if a predator had cornered him in the woods.

_ Fuck. _ Bucky’s gonna bust without even being touched.

He swings around off the bed and puts his feet on the floor, motioning Steve to his knees. “Suck me off. Twice.”

Steve’s eyes grow even wider as he does so with remarkable enthusiasm, not even minding the fact that Bucky’s cock had just been inside him. He licks and sucks and swallows every single inch like he was born to do it. By the end, Steve is gasping from taking Bucky’s cock so deep. Bucky’s come in record time, twice in just under three minutes; he knows because he was watching. And he’s still hard.

Steve’s eyes are glassed over as he looks up at Bucky like he created the fucking universe. He’s at the point where Bucky’s not even sure he can ask to be fucked, so Bucky stands up, pulling his Stevie with him, and practically throws him against the wall, entering Steve as he sinks his teeth into Steve’s neck. He pounds him against the wall like it’s the last time he’ll ever fuck his omega. 

Steve gets off three times before Bucky’s done, painting the wall in amounts the Home Depot mixer would envy and pleading after each one for a reprieve for his overstimulated prostate, but Bucky’s not having it. He doesn’t even let up on the bite until he’s come deep within Steve once more, and his mouth is red with Steve’s blood. 

The omega sinks to his knees in front of him and stares, wide-eyed, at the mess around Bucky’s lips. Bucky makes sure Steve is watching as he licks them. It only makes him feel more feral. The edges of the world are starting to dim; both men are losing their grip on reality a little bit at a time.

Bucky feels a little bit like the Winter Soldier in that moment before he really lets go, staring down his target. Only this is a different kind of target, and a better kind of violence than the Soldier was ever allowed to know. And the only reason he can have it is because of Stevie- his precious Stevie. 

 

Two and a half days later, sweaty, panting, and exhausted, Bucky holds his omega close to his heart. He can hear the thump of Steve’s heartbeat, soft and strong and true. He remembers being so afraid that Steve wouldn’t make it through the winter, that his wonderful little heart would just give up. Every year, he’d go through that, not just feeling the fear, but trying to hide it from the stubborn little guy that captured his own heart the moment they’d met. He’ll never have that fear again, and he thanks his lucky stars for that- among many other things.

Steve stirs against him. Bucky runs his hand along Steve’s stomach and kisses the back of his neck, pulling him closer. 

“God, I love you.”

“Mmm. Good morning… morning? Buck.”

Bucky lets out a soft laugh. “You back to earth yet, Captain?”

“Ugh, don’t call me that,  _ Soldier. _ ”

“Hey, unlike you, I’ve made peace with my uniform. And if I recall, you once told me you find it incredibly sexy. In fact, I don’t hear you complain when the Soldier’s eyes fall on you.” He nibbles at the fading bruises on Steve’s neck. 

Steve shivers. “Hey, that’s… not the same thing.”

“Hmm.”

His omega sighs, leaning back against him. “Do we really have to get up?”

“C’mon, babydoll, the world needs us. You of all people should know that.”

He starts to get off the bed, but a hand stops him and pulls him back down. “Y’know, I was thinking…”

“Oh my god, stop the press! Steve’s thinking! The world must be ending!”

Steve groans. “Bucky, my god you’re a mess. Stop.”

“I’m sorry, your highness. Please continue.”

Steve’s glare is only half-hearted. Uh-oh, this must be serious.

“I was thinking… what if I, uh… gave up the uniform?”

“And what, got a different one?”

This time, Steve rolls his eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

“Uh, I’m not sure about that.”

“Well, let me just say it plainly then: what if I was no longer Captain America?”

“You mean… retired?”

“Yeah. Like if I just, I don’t know. Was your house husband. You could go off on your little adventures with the Avengers, and I’d be here waiting for you when you got back.”

“I didn’t realize you were considering that, Steve.”

“I finished the mission I started so long ago, when I first found you at Azzano. I finally saved you. The rest? I don’t know how important it is anymore, ya know?”

Bucky looks at Steve, an expression of awe crossing his features. “Steve…”

“No, hush. You’re worth it, all of it. I  _ have _ been thinking about it, Buck. I have to consider what’s really important in my life, and if I’m out on an op by myself for three weeks, and then I come home and  _ you _ go out for three more… I don’t know how much I can stand being without you. Bad enough if one of us has to do it.”

“Huh. Well, that’s your choice to make, but it’d be tough out there, not having you to watch my back.”

“Maybe you could take a piece of me with you. Become Captain America.”

Bucky laughs harder than he can remember ever doing before. He laughs so hard he nearly throws up. 

_ Fat fucking chance, Rogers. _

Out loud, he replies, “I’m the Winter Soldier, babe. I fight with Captain America, but I’m not him. Yin doesn’t magically become yang, you know?”

Steve gives him that sad hope face, and Bucky grins, full and bright and exactly what he longed to feel again when he’d been the Asset, as the Soldier. What he’d never thought his face could even do anymore. 

“Steve, baby. I’m happy with who and what I am, now that I have you here. I support you no matter what you decide, okay?” He nuzzles the omega’s hair, breathing in the scent that is still just as sexy even after the heat is over.

Bucky has something he wants to say, but he hesitates. There’s no way to predict how Steve will take this, but it’s something he’s been thinking for awhile. 

_ Here goes. _

“Y’know… sometimes I do wish you could have a baby, as crazy as that sounds.”

Silence. His heart pounds. Did that just go too far?

“Sorry, I know that’s probably creepy as hell.”

Steve remains silent for another moment, but it turns out to be a ponderous one rather than one of disgust or anger, and for that, Bucky is glad.

“Nah, when those hormones come… it’s like… you can’t help but want it. It’s a mess, I mean, I’m not made for that and it’s weird as hell to imagine a man being able to, but… I guess I can’t say I’m sorry about it, even when it comes with that strangeness. It brought me to you, after all.”

Bucky smiles against his neck. “Well, maybe one day we could adopt? When we’re done with… all this.”

“I’d love that, Buck. Let’s see if I’m even able to quit first, though.”

“... that’s a good point. Never could stay out of trouble, could you?”

He runs his fingers fondly through Steve’s golden hair. It’s doubtful Steve can stay out of trouble, that’s true, but no matter what happens, Bucky will be there to get him out of it. It was his very first mission, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments, kudos, and general support. This is by far the longest fic I’ve written and I hope to write much more both in this fandom and out of it. I had a lot of fun messing around with omegaverse dynamics; there’s so much out there with male pregnancy and I just can’t handle that, even though I like the dynamic itself, so the idea was to try my hand at an omegaverse that was more palatable for me personally. I tried to add a bit of cultural commentary, too, as it relates to gender, and I hope I did that in a thoughtful and sensitive manner.
> 
> <333333 all of you readers who take time out of your day to read this! I hope it's been a good ride!

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my lovely beta [Arke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arke) who helped me take this further than I thought it could ever go. You're the best, my love.


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